Atroquinine Merlot
by becsti
Summary: When the daughter of an influential lawyer supposedly commits suicide after a party, Miles Edgeworth is called to investigate. But when all the party guests have a motive for wanting her dead, could this really be a case of murder?
1. Chapter 1

**Atroquinine Merlot: Chapter 1**

**Summary:** When the daughter of an influential lawyer supposedly commits suicide after a party, Miles Edgeworth is called to investigate. But when all the party guests have a motive for wanting her dead, could this really be a case of murder?

**A/N:** pronunciation guide - Willamijna = Wil-a-mee-nah

* * *

><p>Miles Edgeworth was thinking about Willamijna van Hale. He tried to recall every expression on her face, every word she'd said that night, anything that might give him his final clue. All he had learnt so far was laid out like a jigsaw puzzle in his brain, but there were still missing pieces, making the picture an indiscernible blur of colour. He could not shake the feeling that the last pieces were right in front of him; so conspicuous that they were inconspicuous. Edgeworth stared at his office door, eyes glazed over in remembrance, brow furrowed, wracking his mind for the clue that would solve Ms Mina's murder.<p>

* * *

><p>The van Hale Estate was quite a beautiful one. It was made of sandstone brick and stood 3 storeys high. The green ivy that grew on the west wing of the building gave it a very 'English country manor' feel. To the east was a large grass field and flower garden and to the west, a copse of trees that separated the main house from the guesthouse. The whole estate had a decidedly quaint feel about it, reminding Edgeworth of the von Karma estate back in Germany. Mr. van Hale was a very prominent and influential lawyer who'd branched out into business and politics. Having been acquainted with von Karma for many years, he'd taken interest in Edgeworth's career. It was van Hale who had made it possible for Edgeworth's study of European judicial systems, having funded the whole thing. And that was how Edgeworth had found himself standing in front of the van Hale estate. He'd been invited to dinner to celebrate Mr and Mrs. van Hale's 30th wedding anniversary. After all the man had done for him, Edgeworth could not refuse.<p>

As he reached the estate's front door, a woman of at least 50 opened it, greeted him curtly and ushered him quickly inside. Edgeworth raised an eyebrow at her behaviour but remained unperturbed; he'd experienced far worse in court. The inside of the house was exactly as he expected: opulent paintings hung from the walls and exotic Persian rugs covered the dark wooden floorboards.

"Mr. van Hale and his guests await you in the drawing room," the woman announced, all brusque efficiency. She indicated with a sweep of her arm which room that was and disappeared down a hallway leading to the west wing.

When he entered the drawing room a very enthusiastic van Hale greeted him.

"Mr. Edgeworth! We're all so glad you could come." van Hale made an exaggerated gesture with his arm, indicating the other people in the room. Although born and raised in the Netherlands, van Hale spoke perfect English, any trace of his Dutch accent gone, replaced with a convincing British accent.

Shaking van Hale's hand, Edgeworth replied "Thank you, I'm honoured to be here, Sir."

"Edgeworth, we are in the company of friends; please, call me Daniel."

From there, Daniel introduced the rest of the party. His wife, Brigitte, was seated in the chair closest to the door. Her light brown hair was tied up in a bun and her silver dress clung loosely to her body. She rose from her chair.

"It is so nice to see you again, Edgeworth," she greeted, her accent much more apparent than that of her husbands. Edgeworth replied saying that he too was happy to see her again. The corner of her lips turned up into a small smile that never really reached her eyes.

After that, Daniel introduced the rest of the party: sitting opposite Brigitte van Hale was Dr Mike Newman, the family doctor; standing by the window was Albert van Hale, the son-in-law and next to him, Cassandra Long, the best friend of van Hale's daughter.

Curious_,_ Edgeworth thought, that the daughter was absent.

This thought was evidently apparent on his face as Daniel said, "Willamijna should be here shortly," his tone apologetic.

Cassandra made an amused snort and exchanged a look with her best friend's husband indicating this would not be the case.

While they waited, Edgeworth talked with the van Hale's about law and politics, Dr Newman occasionally joining in when he was not reading. Albert and Cassandra talked quietly at the window.

They'd been talking for about half an hour when Willamijna sauntered into the room seemingly oblivious to her lateness. She wore a very flattering red dress with matching lipstick and her long blonde hair was swept over one shoulder. Her smile was self-assured and Edgeworth thought she looked amused at her company for the night. She would have been the picture of health and beauty if not for the sickly pallor of her skin that was poorly disguised under her makeup.

"Good _evening_, everyone," she said in an over-dramatic tone. She held her head up high so that she could look down her nose at the guests as she appraised them.

"Mina, darling, so glad you've decided to join us," her mother greeted, the insincerity of the statement obvious.

"Yes, so glad," Cassandra echoed, with a sneer on her face.

Mina seemed either oblivious to or unaffected by the less than warm greeting as she settled her gaze on Edgeworth, her smile widening in recognition.

"Miles Edgeworth!" she exclaimed. "I haven't seen you in _years._" Already, Miles was beginning to tire of her overly dramatic tone. But for civility's sake he put on a polite smile and shook her pale hand.

"It has certainly been a long time, Ms van Hale."

"Oh _please_, Miles. There's no _need_ for such _formalities,"_ she insisted, her emphasis on every second word beginning to give Edgeworth a headache.

"_You_," she continued, "can call me _Mina."_

"Of course, _Mina,"_ he replied, trying to keep the irritation out of his voice. Mina only acknowledged his response with a grin that was far too smug for his liking.

At that moment, the lady who had greeted Miles at the door entered the room and announced that dinner was ready. Brigitte van Hale was the first to react, standing up quickly to take Edgeworth's arm and guide him to the dinning room, a knowing look in her eyes.

As he was pulled out of the room, he heard Mina begin talking again. "Oh _darling,"_ she said, "it's _so good_ to see you."

* * *

><p>The dinning room's décor was much like the rest of the house's. Paintings lined the walls just like in the front foyer and Edgeworth was sure the one behind Mrs. van Hale's head was a Monet. The seven were all seated at the long table by van Hale's wait staff. To Miles' right were Dr Newman and the son-in-law Albert and to his left was Daniel at the head of the table. Brigitte sat opposite him and next to her was Cassandra. Mina made a big deal about sitting at the end of the table, complaining about how <em>far<em> she was from everyone and how she would need her _ghastly_ glasses just to _see_ everyone's _faces_. Dinner came and went without incident, the gathered people chatting amicably – for the most part – amongst each other.

"Oh Cassie, _dear,"_ Mina began, "how absolutely _wonderful_ is this quail?" When she noticed the bird untouched on her friend's plate, she spoke again, interrupting whatever Cassie was just about to say. "You really _should_ try some_, otherwise_ you're missing out."

Edgeworth noticed for the second time that night a sneer on Cassandra's face.

_Perhaps they're not as close as I thought,_ he mused.

"Mina, _dear,"_ Cassie replied, copying her friend's speech pattern, "I'm a vegetarian." Her tone was clipped and her eyes had narrowed. She glared at her 'friend' for a moment before turning her head to look out the window opposite her.

"Well that's very _unfortunate_ for _you,"_ Mina said as she pushed food around her plate with a fork.

Miles couldn't tell if Mina was really that oblivious to her friend's attitude or simply didn't care. From what he had seen so far, it could really go either way.

* * *

><p>At the completion of dinner, the party reassembled in the drawing room. Surprisingly, Mina sat down and opted to read a book by the window, but not without taking a whole bottle of wine for herself. The rest of the party sat down in front of the fireplace. It wasn't lit; it was still far too warm at this time of year. Cassandra and Albert seemed content in talking amongst themselves and whilst the van Hales reminisced about the 'early days' Edgeworth was left to suffer through Dr Newman's explanation of the thesis he was working on. Edgeworth was only half listening.<p>

"… It's easy if you think about it: if a patient is taking Apomorphine _and_ anti-depressants _and_ has a blood-alcohol content of 0.15 _and_ given certain genetic factors within the person's body, they can all combine to create Atroquinine. Do you know what Atroquinine is, Mr. Edgeworth? It's a slow acting poison, it is. Takes about 15 minutes to attack the central nervous system. There's no cure. Did you hear that, Mr Edgeworth? _No cure._ That's what I'm working on: a cure. A cure that will –"

"That's very _fascinating, _Mr. Newman," – _Oh god, that girl is contagious – _"but –"

"Please, call me _Dr_ Newman," he interrupted.

"Yes, _Dr_ Newman," the irritation barely hidden in his tone, "but I'm afraid I must excuse myself for a moment." Without waiting for a reply, Edgeworth stood up and walked swiftly out the room, ignoring the curious looks of the van Hale's.

He walked a way down the hall till he was sure he wasn't being followed. Had van Hale gone out of his way to invite the most insufferable people? Well that wasn't fair; only Mina and Newman were insufferable.

"Oh just _where_ did I _leave_ my glasses?" Speak of the devil.

He heard determined footsteps coming from the drawing room.

_Oh please no, no, no, no._ Edgeworth tried to find somewhere to hide but it was too late.

"Oh _there _you are, Miles! I _was_ wondering just _where_ you'd gone." And the headache re-emerges.

"Ms Mina, is there something I can do for you?" he inquired politely.

"_Well,_" – _no please just kill me now – "_what you can do for me _at the moment,"_ he didn't miss the way her eyes glinted at that, "is help me _find_ my glasses. I just _can't _read _without_ them!"

"Then how were you reading before?"

"Oh _silly_ Miles. I was _drinking_ my _wine._ I can't do _both_ at once."

"Actually you definitely could," he mumbled in response.

"Pardon?"

"I said: 'I've not seen your glasses, Ms Mina.'" He felt his eye twitch at the blatant lie, becoming increasingly frustrated at the woman in front of him. If she saw through his lie she didn't show it. Instead she glanced back and around to make sure they weren't being watched.

"There _is_ one other thing you could help me with…" she trailed off, eyes scanning her surroundings constantly on the look out for other people. Her whole demeanour had changed at that instant. Gone was the infuriating self-assured smugness; her face a perfect mask of nonchalance and the hint of … fear in her eyes?

Edgeworth took a breath to quell his irritation. When it was evident that Mina was not going to continue, he prompted her: "Yes Ms Mina?"

"… What's your opinion of blackmail?"

_That_ was definitely not what he'd been expecting. He stared at her for a moment in surprise, but quickly composed himself.

"What do you mean by 'opinion'?"

"_Well…_ it's quite low isn't it? I mean, what kind of person would do such a thing?" The fear in her eyes had remained, looking out of place on her usually smug features. Her sickly pale pallor and the dark bags under her eyes were highlighted by the poorly concealed fear on her face.

Slowly, Edgeworth replied "Ms Mina, you're not being blackmailed are you?"

Before she could reply, let alone react, to his question, the housekeeper rounded the corner and strode down the hall towards the drawing room.

"_Well, _if you _do_ find my glasses, I'd be _most_ appreciative." She'd composed herself, changed the subject and began to walk back to the drawing room.

_Back to her old self,_ he thought.

As Edgeworth returned to the room, Daniel van Hale was on his way out followed by the curt housekeeper. Daniel's face was pinched with some emotion Edgeworth couldn't identify quick enough, because upon seeing him van Hale had slipped on a blank mask.

"Got to make a phone call," was all the explanation he received before van Hale was off down the hall.

Not much had changed in Edgeworth's absence: Albert and Cassie were still talking – he was surprised that he had not seen Albert and Mina talk to each other once considering they _were_ married – Mina was sitting back in her seat, reading with her _glasses_ perched on her nose – so that had all been a rouse – and Brigitte was politely half-listening to Newman's medical jargon.

"Mrs. van Hale," he interrupted Newman's monologue, "that's such a lovely garden you have there," he looked pointedly out the window. "I'm not good with flowers, tell me: what are those blue ones called?"

Relief washed over Brigitte's face, having been saved from Newman's rambling and eagerly talked about her hyacinths and scillas.

When Daniel returned he seemed troubled, perhaps a business deal had gone south? Edgeworth didn't have time to dwell on that much longer as Mina stood up and began to address the whole room.

"I propose a toast," she said, thrusting her wine glass in the air where some wine sloshed over the edge and onto the carpet. "To _dear_ Mama and Papa. I _truly_ wish that _I_ should have such a _happy_ and _long_ marriage to my _dear_ Albert." She smiled broadly and sculled the rest of her glass, struggling to keep herself from swaying.

There was an uncomfortable silence that followed until Albert stood up and walked towards his wife.

"Come on, Mina," his tone like that of an adult to a sleepy child, "I think you've had enough." He tried to take her wine glass from her but she swatted his hand away. "Mina, you're drunk." Again he reached for her glass and again she swatted his hand away.

"_No_, I'm not _drunk,_ you are all just _too sober,"_ she said in a tone far too amused for someone who was not drunk.

"Just go to bed, Mina, you're ruining the night," was the curt statement from Cassandra.

Brigitte said something Miles couldn't quite understand in Dutch to Mina. Whatever she said, it worked: Mina sighed, closed her book and placed it on the side table with her glasses and stumbled out of the room with her mother.

When Brigitte returned some minutes later, it was decided to call it a night and the guests all said their goodbyes. Albert and Cassandra were both staying overnight at the guest house (Mina had been in no condition to walk that far and had gone to bed in her childhood room). Dr Newman had his own room in the main house, which left Edgeworth as the only one driving home that night. Brigitte had insisted he stay, but he had work to do the next morning and refused her offer. He was tired and really needed to leave before we went insane. He said his goodbyes to Mrs. van Hale (Mr. van Hale was on the phone again), promising to come visit soon enough. She'd said that he really _must_ – Mina would enjoy the company. His eye twitched at that. It was too late; he'd already begun the short spiral into insanity.

* * *

><p>The next morning, Edgeworth woke to his mobile phone ringing. His alarm clock read 6.05.<p>

_It better not be that fool Larry,_ he thought grimly as he reached for the phone.

The screen on his mobile indicated an unknown caller, ruling Larry out. But that meant that it ruled work out as well. His interest piqued, Edgeworth pressed the accept button.

"Miles Edgeworth speaking," he answered.

"Mr. Edgeworth? It's Cassandra Long," came the hurried reply. She was sobbing making it very difficult for Edgeworth to understand her. Suddenly on alert, he sat up in bed.

"Ms Long, tell me what's happened," he commanded, unease pooling in his stomach.

"It's Mina," she cried, "… she's dead!"

**TBC**


	2. Chapter 2

**Warnings: **mentions of suicide

**A/N:** I'm no medical expert, so the coronial inquest is pure fiction.

* * *

><p><span>Chapter 2:<span>

Edgeworth had left home about 15 minutes after his conversation with Ms Long and arrived back at the van Hale estate after a half hour drive. The scene that greeted him this morning was far different than that of yesterday afternoon: the once tranquil grounds were now bustling with police officers.

As he approached the police tape, he pulled out his prosecutor's badge and flashed it at the constable on guard duty.

"Welcome, Mr. Edgeworth, sir," the officer greeted as he lifted up the tape for Edgeworth to step under.

Edgeworth merely nodded in response and walked swiftly towards the front door. At that moment a familiar figure came bounding out of the house to come greet him. He groaned inwardly; why couldn't he ever have any _competent_ detectives to assist him?

"Hullo, Mr. Edgeworth!" Gumshoe exclaimed, giving him a salute.

"Gumshoe," was his curt reply.

The two walked inside the house together as Gumshoe relayed the details of the case to him.

"The vic was van Hale's daughter, Willa… Willa… Willa-midgna –"

"Willa-_mee_-na," Edgeworth corrected.

A sheepish smile appeared on Gumshoe's face. "Right, sir. Well, the housekeeper who was just starting her rounds found her at about 5.30 this morning. Seems like a pretty cut and dry suicide to me."

They passed through the same hall Edgeworth had walked not 12 hours ago and entered the drawing room where the party had gathered the night before. There were a couple forensics examining various objects about the room and the coroner and his assistant were over by the window inspecting Mina van Hale's body.

Having heard their footsteps, the coroner turned around to greet them.

"Ah, gentlemen, so glad you made it." A large smile spread across his face, creating a dimple on each of his cheeks. It was morbidly out of place considering the current situation. He ushered them over with a gloved hand.

"Meet Mina van Hale," he began. "Age 26; time of death approximately 3 this morning." His tone was disturbingly cheery.

"I've been told it's a suicide," Edgeworth said, looking to the coroner to confirm this.

"Ah, well it does seem to be but I can't confirm anything just yet. Only been here for 5 minutes," the coroner replied. He was much too jovial for Edgeworth's liking.

"May I?" he asked, motioning to examine the body himself.

"Ah, yes, yes, of course." The creepy coroner moved to the side.

Mina van Hale was seated in the very same chair that she had been in last night. Her pale arms were laid along the chair's armrests and her slender hands dangled over the front. Her body was slumped down in the chair, her head dropped down forward so that her long hair covered her face and the tips pooled in her lap. The book she had been reading last night rested on her knees, open, indicating she must have died whilst reading. Her feet were shoeless (her heels were resting against the side of the chair) and were pressed flat to the floor. Taking in the whole scene, Edgeworth decided it seemed very unnatural – not the kind of position one would take up to read a book. He recalled last night where Mina had sat elegantly with her legs crossed, leaning on her right elbow, book in her left hand. There was nothing elegant about the scene before him. Perhaps the odd positioning could be attributed to _rigamortis_; Edgeworth was no medical expert.

"This is the exact position you found her in?" he asked.

"Ah, yes, yes. She hasn't been touched yet. We're waiting for the photos to be taken."

Edgeworth nodded and turned his eyes back to the chair. There was something about this scene that was bothering him, something that wasn't right. He couldn't seem to put his finger on _what_ that was. He looked over to the small side table next to the chair. On it was a bottle of wine – he recognised it as the one Mina had been drinking from last night – and one wine glass about ¼ full.

He was disturbed from his examination by a gangly forensic holding a large camera in his hands. Edgeworth stepped aside to let him get to work. The forensic started snapping away, bright flashes of light illuminating the dim room. Miles watched on, the corners of his mouth pulled down.

"So, uh, waddaya think, sir?" Gumshoe asked, snapping Edgeworth out of his reverie. He'd completely forgotten about the bumbling detective's presence.

"Mmm," he made a noncommittal sound as he continued to stare at the scene before him.

"Looks like a suicide to me," Gumshoe continued, oblivious that he was being ignored.

The forensic stepped away from the body, satisfied with the photos he had. "It's all yours," he said to the coroner.

"Ah, excellent!" the coroner exclaimed. "Come, Lisa," he said to his assistant, "let's begin."

Edgeworth watched on deciding there wasn't much else he could do. Creepy coroner, as Edgeworth had dubbed him, gently pushed Mina's head back so that her face was visible. It was yellowy-white with death and there were dark purple bruises underneath her eyes, not too dissimilar to her pallor the night before. Creepy coroner pulled open an eyelid whilst his assistant Lisa shone a small torch into it.

"Hmm," is all he said as he examined the other eye.

He then checked both her ears and nostrils 'hmm-ing' and 'ah-ing' as he worked. Creepy coroner made an excited noise as he was examining her mouth.

"Ah, excellent, excellent!" Edgeworth failed to see what was so excellent about examining a dead person's mouth. Nevertheless, he stepped closer, intrigued.

"Her tongue, do you see it?" he asked to both Edgeworth and Lisa.

"Oh…" Lisa said in a much more sombre tone than her superior.

"What is it?" Edgeworth asked impatiently.

"Ah, yes, you wouldn't know, would you?" he directed at Edgeworth. "It's quite swollen," he continued. "At this stage of decomposition this should not be present unless…"

"Yes?" Edgeworth prompted.

"Unless some sort of external factor caused it to be so," Lisa replied in a detached tone. "For example: drugs or poison."

"Well that fits our suicide theory, sir," said Gumshoe.

"Mmm," Edgeworth replied. There was something about this scene that was off, but for the life of him, he couldn't work it out.

Creepy coroner agreed: "Ah yes, that's right. And it seems she may have been a little intoxicated." He directed his gaze pointedly to the near empty wine bottle on the side table.

Edgeworth turned to one of the forensics that had been hanging around a little aimlessly this whole time.

"I want you to bag the bottle and glass and check for fingerprints. Also check for any substances in the wine itself."

"Yes, sir," the forensic said meekly.

"Come, Gumshoe." And with that Edgeworth walked swiftly out into the hall.

"Where are we going now, sir?"

"We're going to offer our condolences to the aggrieved."

* * *

><p>The Library where Brigitte van Hale had been sitting in since the discovery of her daughter's body was much like the rest of the house: paintings, rugs and ornaments that all screamed 'wealth'. Two of the walls were covered floor to ceiling in books. Brigitte was sitting in an over-stuffed chair staring vacantly out a window that looked out onto the flower garden. She seemed unaware of Edgeworth and Gumshoe's arrival.<p>

Edgeworth cleared his throat. "Mrs. van Hale?"

Brigitte turned quickly, eyes wide. "Oh Miles," she began, her voice heavy with sadness, "you scared me."

She stood up and walked towards him. "Oh Miles," she repeated, fresh tears running down her face. She pulled him into a tight hug and rocked slowly from side to side as if _she_ were trying to console _him_. Edgeworth stood still, unsure of what to do and hesitantly placed his hands on her back in the universal 'there, there' gesture. She pulled back suddenly and walked back over to where she had been sitting.

"You must want me to tell you everything I know, correct?" she asked, her voice thick with resignation.

"If now's not a good time –"

"No, no," she interrupted. "Best to get it over and done with." A sad smile adorned her face.

Edgeworth stood awkwardly in the centre of the room. He always felt uncomfortable and out of his element around grieving families.

"Please, sit." She motioned for he and Gumshoe to sit in two of the chairs opposite hers.

"We're very sorry for your loss, ma'am," said Gumshoe.

Brigitte nodded in acknowledgement, bringing a tissue up to her eyes.

"We understand that this is hard for you so we'll try to be as quick as possible," Gumshoe finished.

Edgeworth began the questioning: "Mrs van Hale –"

"Please, Brigitte."

"_Brigitte._ When was the last time you saw your daughter?"

Brigitte sniffed. "I'd say it was around 11 when I sent her up to bed. You remember, Miles?"

"Yes indeed. And what happened when you went up there?"

"What happened?" Brigitte asked, surprised at the question. "What do you mean 'what happened?' If you're implying –"

"I assure you, Brigitte, I am implying nothing. I just need a full picture of what happened last night, that's all."

She sniffed indignantly at this but continued. "Well, she was drunk and she gets awfully silly when she's drunk. I basically had to carry her up to her room."

"And then you put her to bed?"

"Yes. I was only gone for 5-6 minutes – not much else to do in so little time," she said, still suspicious of what Edgeworth might have been implying. Her eyes then glazed over – she was clearly remembering the last time she saw her daughter alive. Another sniff. "Is that all you wanted to know?"

"Just one last question for now: did Mina have any reason for committing suicide?" Edgeworth asked, trying to be as gentle as possible.

Brigitte shook her head. "Not that I know of."

"Are you sure? No detail is too small," Edgeworth insisted.

"Well… there _was_ one thing…" Brigitte trailed off. She brought another tissue up to her nose and continued. "Daniel had been encouraging her to get involved in some of his business dealings. About a month ago, she began her first solo deal. Negotiations probably would have ended this week if not for…" At this, fresh tears fell from her eyes and she put her head in her hands. Gumshoe went over to console her while Edgeworth tried to pretend he was somewhere else. It's not that he had no compassion; it's just that he felt terribly uncomfortable and even helpless in these situations.

When Brigitte had regained her composure she continued. "It would have been a lot of pressure but nothing that would have led her to," she searched for the right word, "_this._"

"I understand. I guess that will be all for now." Miles stood to leave. "Mrs. van Hale, is there any chance we could look around Mina's bedroom?"

Brigitte stood as well. "Of course, of course. I'll send for Gertrude to show you up."

After more consoling words, courtesy of Gumshoe, Gertrude – who happened to be the curt housekeeper from last night – showed the two up to Mina's room.

There was a large, four posted bed that dominated most of the room. A side table stood on either side of it. There was a dresser and a 6-foot mirror to the right and a large bay window, complete with window seat, on the far side of the room.

"So, uh, what're we looking for, sir?" Gumshoe inquired.

"Anything that would support the suicide theory," Edgeworth replied, exasperated. Although he always meant well, sometimes that detective could be infuriatingly thick. Gumshoe perused the dresser while Edgeworth looked through the side tables. Finding nothing of interest in the first one, he rounded the bed and opened the second one. The first drawer was full of photos – he recognised Mina and Cassandra in many of them. The second drawer was locked.

"Gumshoe, can you pick a lock?"

"I sure can, pal!" he answered, huffing with pride.

After fiddling with the lock for about 10 seconds, the drawer opened. Inside were some gold bangles, a pair of diamond earrings and a letter. Edgeworth picked up the letter, intent on reading it, when he noticed what was underneath. There was a small Ziploc bag, which contained some sort of white powder.

He replaced the letter in favour of picking up the bag. Holding it up to show Gumshoe, he said: "I think we just found what killed Ms van Hale."

* * *

><p>Edgeworth walked brusquely down the stairs back towards the drawing room, Gumshoe struggling to keep up. Entering the room, he was relieved to find that Creepy Coroner and the forensics were still there.<p>

He addressed the coroner: "Excuse me, Cre – sir."

At this, Creepy Coroner turned away from the medical kit he had been sorting.

"Ah, gentlemen, I'm afraid I don't have much more news for you yet," he stated cheerfully.

"You said that she might've been drugged or poisoned?"

"Ah yes, I believe I did."

"Could this be what killed her?" he asked, handing over the bag.

Creepy Coroner looked at the bag intently, brow furrowed. It was the most serious he had looked all morning.

"Ah… Lisa, come have a look at this."

His assistant walked over from the medical kit and accepted the bag when Creepy Coroner offered it to her. She turned it over in her hands for a moment before handing it back to her superior.

"We should get the lab people to analyse this," she turned to Edgeworth, "but I think you'll find that this is Atroquinine."

"Atroquinine?" Gumshoe asked, his eyes comically wide.

"Yes. We have yet to do a full examination of the body but our findings are congruent with Atroquinine poisoning," she replied monotonously.

"The forensics will be able to confirm what this is by the end of the day," Creepy Coroner stated.

"Well, that _does_ support our suicide theory, right sir?" asked Gumshoe.

Edgeworth chose to ignore the question. "Atroquinine… that's quite potent, is it not?"

"Ah yes it is. It paralyses the nervous system; 15 minutes and you're a goner," replied the coroner.

"So if this is in fact Atroquinine," Edgeworth motioned to the bag, "at what dosage would it be lethal?"

"It's lethal at 2µg (micrograms) or 2 millionths of a gram. You'd need not even half a teaspoon to be added to that bottle of wine to do the job. That bag there could kill hundreds of people." He said all this with a smile.

Edgeworth then felt very uneasy holding said bag, especially without any gloves. Noticing his unease, Lisa took the bag from him and went over to one of the forensics.

"Well… if think I'm about done here. You mind if we take the body now?" asked the coroner.

Edgeworth took one last look at the body before letting the coroner begin the removal process. There was still something off about the whole scene that was driving Edgeworth a little crazy. He'd have to examine the photos thoroughly when he received a copy of the preliminary report.

Edgeworth, with Gumshoe in tow, left the drawing room in search of Mr. van Hale. Speaking with one of the more polite employees, he learnt that van Hale had been taking some very important phone calls in his office all morning.

After waiting for 30 minutes, van Hale finally emerged from his office.

"Edgeworth! I'm not too surprised you're here," van Hale greeted, much less enthusiastically than yesterday.

"Yes, I received a phone call from Ms Long this morning."

"Ah, of course. She _was_ rather distressed." van Hale paused thinking deeply for a moment.

"I pulled a few strings to make sure you were on this case. It's always good to have someone you can trust."

Van Hale looked very weary; he had heavy bags under his eyes, which were rimmed with red. He seemed to have aged greatly overnight.

After a long bout of silence, he exclaimed: "Oh how rude of me. Please come and sit. I imagine you have many questions." He ushered them into his office.

Once all seated, Gumshoe repeated his earlier condolences and Edgeworth began the questioning.

There wasn't much van Hale could say: the last time he saw Mina was just before she went to bed and he couldn't fathom why she'd want to kill herself.

"If I may attest to her state of mind the past month," Daniel began. "She'd been having trouble sleeping ever since I'd given her her own business deal to run." Here he paused. "I shouldn't have done that; she wasn't ready," he mumbled.

"It's not your fault, sir," assured Gumshoe.

"Oh I know that. But one can't help but think that way." He smiled sadly. "She tried to deal with the stress with alcohol, you saw how she got last night, Edgeworth. She never used to be that way."

After Edgeworth realised he wouldn't learn much more, he ended the conversation and he and Gumshoe wandered the hall looking for the other guests from last night. Gertrude informed them that Albert van Hale and Cassandra Long were waiting for them in the guesthouse.

If his brief conversation with Ms Long this morning were any indication, this questioning would be thoroughly unenjoyable.

And so, with great reluctance, he and Gumshoe set off towards the guesthouse.

**TBC**


	3. Chapter 3

**Atroquinine Merlot**

**Warnings:** mentions of suicide

**A/N:** Sorry this took so long - I've only just started uni. Thank you to all the lovely reviews! They're most appreciated.

* * *

><p><span>Chapter 3:<span>

The guesthouse was to the west of the main building. One of the maids led Edgeworth and Gumshoe through the kitchen and out the side door.

"Shall I walk you to the guesthouse?" she inquired politely.

"That won't be necessary, ma'am," Gumshoe replied. "I know the way."

"Very well then." With that she bowed her head and turned back towards the kitchen.

"After you, detective," Edgeworth motioned with his head for Gumshoe to lead the way.

The path to the guesthouse weaved through a thick copse of trees; once they were well and truly within the wood, neither house was visible. Although the houses were a short distance away from each other, the path wound through the trees like a snake and it took the pair 6 or so minutes to reach their destination. Once at the clearing they came to a fork in the path. It appeared that they had arrived at the side of the house and one path went to the front of the house, the other to the back.

"Which way, detective?"

"Uhh… this way," Gumshoe replied somewhat hesitantly, as he began down the path that went to the right.

Edgeworth inwardly sighed hoping the detective wasn't getting them lost. Rounding the corner, they faced the definitely-not-the-front-door of the guesthouse. It was small and in need of a good paint. The shrubs to the right of the door had all been flattened; some oaf, not unlike the bumbling detective, had probably trodden on them. Weeds were growing on the edge of the path. Edgeworth turned and glared at Gumshoe. At least he had the decency to look contrite.

"Well, we can still go in this way, right sir?"

Edgeworth merely grunted in reply. He opened the door and walked swiftly inside, leaving Gumshoe scrambling to keep up.

Inside, the guesthouse was more toned down in comparison to the main building, though the general theme of the décor was the same. They were in a long hallway: to their left was a door that presumably led to a bedroom and to the right hung a few landscape paintings. The main part of the house appeared to be at the end of the hall. The pair walked down the hall where they ran into a very surprised maid.

"Oh sirs, I didn't hear you come in!" she exclaimed, holding a hand to her chest.

"We're sorry to disturb you, ma'am," Miles replied. "_Someone_ led us the wrong way." He gave a pointed look to Gumshoe.

"That's quite alright, sir. It's just that you can never see nor hear a soul come in that way." Having seemingly recovered from her shock, she clasped her hands together. "I suppose you'll be wanting to speak to Mr. van Hale then?" she asked.

"Actually, I was hoping to speak to Ms Long first," he replied.

"Oh no, sir, I'm afraid that won't be possible at the moment. She's quite inconsolable, you see. Dr Newman said that she be left alone for a while," she stated apologetically.

Although irked, Edgeworth's face was a perfect mask of blank indifference. "Very well then. Could you please take us to Mr. van Hale?"

"Of course, sir. Right this way."

She led them back down the hall they had come through, right to the very end. At the last door she stopped and knocked.

"Mr. van Hale? The police are here. They'd like to speak with you if that's alright."

"Send them in," came the muted reply.

The maid opened the door, indicating for the two to enter. Edgeworth nodded in thanks and she left, walking back up the hall. The room was generously decorated: on one side sat a king bed, on the other was a large window; two large chairs sat facing a faux fireplace underneath it. Albert van Hale was sitting in one of these chairs reading.

"Gentlemen," he greeted, not bothering to glance away from his book.

"Mr. van Hale – "

"Please, Albert is fine," he interrupted, still enthralled by his book.

_What is with these people and their persistence to use their first names?_

"_Albert_," Miles corrected himself, the irritation clear in his tone. "We are deeply sorry for your loss."

"As am I, Mr. Edgeworth," Albert replied finally looking up from his book. "What do I owe the pleasure?"

"We'd like to ask you about your wife's sudden passing."

"Right, yes. Ghastly business that," Albert said insincerely. "Ask away, gentlemen." His gaze returned to his book.

A moment's silence passed. "Good book?" Edgeworth inquired.

"Hm? Oh sorry, how rude of me." He placed the book down on the small side table next to his chair. A bottle and glass of wine already sat on the table, along with a pair of reading glasses. Edgeworth felt a disturbing sense of deja vu at the sight. Catching his line of sight, Albert smiled apologetically.

"It might not be the most respectful, all things considered, but I have a weakness for the wine here. It's truly magnificent. Would you like some?"

"No, thank you," Miles replied, taking a seat across from Albert. Gumshoe, who had been uncharacteristically silent, sat down on the edge of the bed.

"So… what would you like to know?"

"Firstly I'd like to know your movements from when the party retired to this morning."

"I thought Mina's death was a suicide?"

"It's early days, sir," Gumshoe piped in.

"Ah, no stone unturned and all that? Well," he ran a hand through the stubble on his chin in thought. "After the party ended, I just came back here. I had a shower and went to bed."

"At what time was this?" Edgeworth asked. He glanced over to Gumshoe who was scribbling this down on a note pad.

"Hmm… the party ended at about 1, so I arrived back here at about 10 past. I'd say I hit the hay around 1.40."

"Can anyone corroborate that story?" Edgeworth queried.

Albert raised his gaze to the ceiling in thought. A moment passed when he exclaimed: "Oh how could I forget? I asked that lovely maid to fetch me this bottle of wine." He pointed to the bottle on the side table. "She brought it in whilst I was showering."

"And which maid was that, Albert?"

"The one just now." A wicked smile spread across his face. "A pretty blonde thing she is, eh Edgeworth?" he snickered.

Miles was less than amused and his face remained blank. Seeing his seriousness, Albert cleared his throat and put on a grim expression.

"Was there anything else detectives?" he asked looking back and forth between the two.

"If this _is_ a suicide," Edgeworth replied, ignoring the fact that he'd been called adetective, "we'll need to know Mina's motive."

"Motive? Well… she _had_ been uneasy this past month."

"Uneasy how?" Edgeworth leant forward, his interest piqued.

Albert looked out the window and narrowed his eyes as he spoke. "Van Hale senior had given her a business deal to manage. Poor girl had no clue what to do; she'd been waited on hand-and-foot her whole life." He sighed and continued: "she couldn't sleep, couldn't eat; took to drink for comfort. Wouldn't say she was of the most stable mind recently."

_Hmm… that's just what the van Hales said earlier. _

Albert turned his attention back to Edgeworth. "Was there anything else?"

"That's the _only_ reason that you can think of? Anything else out of the ordinary?" he pressed.

Van Hale ran a hand through his stubble again. "There was that business with the mail, I suppose."

"The mail?" Gumshoe interjected, eyes wide. _Damn I forgot he was here._

"Yes, _the mail_." Albert sounded exasperated. "I don't know the specifics, you'll have to ask the maids or Cassie-dear about that."

"Right, I will, sir," Gumshoe replied, nodding his head sharply.

Albert made to stand up. "Well, if that's all gentlemen…"

Edgeworth followed suit. "Yes, that will be fine for now. Thank you Mr. van Hale for your cooperation."

After giving their final condolences, Edgeworth and Gumshoe excused themselves.

"So, whaddaya think, sir? Suicide theory's looking stronger and stronger."

"So it would seem," Miles replied curtly. He still couldn't shake the feeling that he was missing something and the interview with Albert van Hale had only intensified that feeling.

* * *

><p>The blonde maid from earlier, Katherine, confirmed van Hale's story: he'd come back just after 1 and she'd brought the wine into his room at about half past, the shower still running.<p>

"It's not the most solid alibi, is it, sir?" Gumshoe asked.

"No, but Ms Katherine said she would have heard him leave if he had; both the front and back doors were bolted shut."

"But she might've missed something, sir."

"I highly doubt that," Edgeworth said derisively. "Besides, none of the other employees saw anything either."

Gumshoe, seemingly ignorant of Edgeworth's tone, continued to blather on about something or other, but Edgeworth had tuned him out. The duo walked back up the hall to the main part of the guesthouse. If he couldn't talk to Ms Long, Dr Newman would have to do for now. They exited through the front door and set off up the path towards the main house.

"Mr. Edgeworth!" came a shout from the woods.

Cassandra Long swerved through some shrubbery and joined him on the path.

"Ms Long? What are you doing out here?" Miles asked, taken aback.

"It's quite peaceful out here. I needed some place to think," she answered pensively. "This… has been all so sudden." Her mouth was drawn in a thin line, but her eyes gave away her melancholy. She was wearing a little black dress; a silver cloth was wrapped around her shoulders despite the warmth. Her dark hair was pulled back in a severe ponytail and her eyeliner slightly smudged in the corners.

"I'm so sorry for your loss, Ms Long – "

"Please, Cassandra is fine," she interrupted. "And thank you," she added, sniffing.

"If it's alright with you, we'd like to ask you about last night."

"No, it's fine. Best to get it over and done with," she said, eyes far away. She shook herself from her reverie and continued: "Do you mind if we sit? Today's been particularly trying." She indicated back towards the guesthouse to an outdoor dining set.

"Of course not," he replied. Once they were all settled in their seats, Miles began the questioning. "Can you tell me about your movements last night after the party split?"

Cassandra wrapped the silver cloth tighter around her and cast her eyes down to the tabletop.

"I walked back here with Albert and went straight to bed. Katherine, one of the maids, brought me some tea to help me sleep. The next thing I know, Mina's dead and there are police everywhere." Her eyes were glassy and she blinked rapidly to get rid of the tears.

"You didn't seem to be on the best of terms with Mina last night. Why was that?" Edgeworth asked gently.

Cassandra didn't lift her gaze when she replied. "We'd recently had a falling out." She frowned. "A disagreement if you like."

"And what was this disagreement about?" he prodded.

"Why does it matter?" she began angrily, lifting her gaze to look Edgeworth in the eyes. "Why does any of this matter? Mina's gone, she killed herself and nothing I say is going to change that!" She sighed resignedly, the anger leaving as quickly as it had come.

"Ms Long," Edgeworth began softly, "Officially, the police believe it was a suicide, but I'm not entirely convinced."

Her eyes widened in disbelief. "You're not saying… You don't think… she was murdered, do you?" Fresh tears rolled down her face, she didn't bother trying to stop them this time.

"Gumshoe," Edgeworth began, "Go into the guesthouse and find some tissues for Ms Long, will you?"

Gumshoe looked up from where he had been studiously taking notes at the far end of the table. "Yes, sir, Mr. Edgeworth, sir!" he replied and walked brusquely back to the house.

"Thank you," Cassandra whispered. "You wanted to know about the fight?" Edgeworth nodded. "It was about that business deal she was in charge of. The… 'Head guy' she was negotiating with… what was his name?" She paused in thought. "Gardiner. Jamie Gardiner, I think. They did not have what you would call a 'professional' relationship," she sneered.

"How so?" he asked, already having a good idea of what she meant.

"They were sleeping together." The disgust was clear in her tone. "I found out, we fought, end of story." She opened her mouth to say more as Gumshoe returned.

"Tissues for the lady," he announced, handing her the box.

"Thank you, detective. Anything else?" She quirked an eyebrow at Edgeworth.

Edgeworth paused to consider. "One more thing: do you know how Mina could have possibly gotten her hands on Atroquinine?"

"Dr Newman. They were quite 'close'. He's been working on some sort of cure I believe." _Yes, he said as much to me last night._ "If that's all Mr. Edgeworth…?"

"Yes, that's all." He stood up. "You have our sympathies, Ms Long." With that, he turned and walked down the path towards the main house, Gumshoe in tow.

"I want you to find out all that you can about Jamie Gardiner, detective."

"Sir?"

"The business partner."

Gumshoe wrote it down in his notepad and tucked his pencil behind his ear. "Right away, sir!" he saluted as they emerged from the woods. Edgeworth went back to the main house, intent on interviewing Dr Newman, while Gumshoe got started on his research.

* * *

><p>Dr Newman was a skittish man. His fingers tapped incessantly against the table and his dark eyes were darting all across the room. He straightened his tie and smoothed down the lapels of his lab coat.<p>

Edgeworth sighed. "Dr Newman…?"

Newman jumped at Edgeworth's interruption. "Ah, yes Mina." he cleared his throat and took a steadying breath. "She'd taken an interest in my work, she had." His eyes lit up at this point. "Did I tell you about my thesis, Mr. Edgeworth?" Miles was about to reply that he had, but Newman kept talking. "Do you know what Atroquinine is, Mr. Edgeworth? It's a slow acting poison, it is. Takes about – "

"Dr Newman!" Edgeworth interjected. "Please stay on topic." _If only for the sake of my sanity. _

Newman sank back into his chair in fear. "Right, yes, of course." He cleared his throat again. "She'd recently been observing my experiments, she had."

"Why?"

He seemed a little confused by this question. "Why? Ah… I… I don't know why, Detective Edgeworth."

"_Mr._ Edgeworth."

"Right, yes, of course."

Edgeworth took a moment to calm down before he bit the poor doctor's head off. "She never gave you a reason?"

Newman coughed and refused to make eye contact. Apparently the tabletop was fascinating to look at. "No, no, I haven't the faintest idea."

_Well, that's definitely not suspicious at all. At all. But I don't think it's going to do me any good to try and get the truth out of him just yet._

"Dr Newman, it seems Mina was in possession of a great deal of Atroquinine. It's probably what killed her."

'Shocked' was too mild a term for the look on Newman's face. If Edgeworth wasn't a professional, he probably would have found it funny.

"No, that can't be possible." Newman stood up and walked over to the locked cupboard on the other side of the room. He fumbled the keys into the lock and opened the doors. Rifling through the shelves, he emerged with a small box, which had the poison symbol on its lid. He sat back down, put on a pair of latex gloves and opened it up.

"Now you see, that can't be possible Detective Edgeworth because…"

A moment's silence passed. Just as Edgeworth went to prompt Newman to continue, the doctor spoke again.

"Uh…" He sifted through the box almost frantically. "I'm sure it's here somewhere…" He mumbled.

"Dr Newman…?"

Newman looked up, his face pale like he'd just seen a ghost.

"I… uh… I… It seems I have misplaced my supply of Atroquinine," he said gravely.

Edgeworth rubbed his temples in an effort to prevent the migraine he could feel coming on. The doctor looked like he was on the verge of a panic attack. _Great, just great._

"Mr. Newman please calm down," he said tiredly.

"_Dr_ Newman," he replied, though he was even more fidgety than he'd been before.

Edgeworth's eyes widened in surprise. _You have got to be kidding me. Where are your priorities, man?_

"Did Mina know where you kept the Atroquinine?"

"Well yes. But the cupboard is always locked!"

"Did she know where you kept the keys?"

Newman glanced back down at the tabletop, looking very uncomfortable.

"I'll take that as a yes," Miles said, irked.

"I, uh, I have a sample that you could probably compare to what Mina had," the doctor said meekly.

Miles leant back in his chair and crossed his arms. "Yes, I'd appreciate that very much."

Newman nodded in reply and shuffled out of the room to another part of his lab. A few moments later, he reappeared with a vial sealed in a Ziploc bag. He cautiously handed it over.

"Thank you, Dr Newman. That will be all for today. I'll keep in touch." Newman's eyes widened at that and he nodded jerkily before Edgeworth turned and walked out.

* * *

><p>After almost getting lost in the maze of hallways that was the van Hale estate, Edgeworth found himself back in the main hall. Creepy coroner and his assistant, Lisa, were just coming out of the crime scene.<p>

"You're finished for today?" Miles inquired.

Creepy coroner clasped his hands together enthusiastically. "Why yes we are, Mr. Edgeworth. How goes your investigation?"

_God this guy gives me the creeps. _"It's been a very trying day," he replied, unenthused.

"Haha! Excellent, excellent." _I fail to see what's so excellent about it. _"We'll have your prelim report ready for you tomorrow, I'd say mid-morning."

"Good," he replied brusquely. "Oh, I almost forgot." He took out the vial Newman had given him earlier and handed it over to the coroner. "I'd like you to compare this to the powder I gave you this morning. If it matches, we'll know where the victim obtained the poison."

A big smile spread across Creepy coroner's face. "My, my, you've been a busy boy, haven't you?" At Edgeworth's lack of reaction, his smile faltered. He cleared his throat. "Well, I'll have that included in the prelim report."

"Thank you, sir."

"Please, just call me Stanley."

Edgeworth's eye twitched. _If one more person tells me to call them by their first name, I swear – _

"Well, we best get going. All the employees have the night off, so there'll be no lovely home cooked meal for us here." He pouted. It was disturbing. "See you tomorrow, Mr. Edgeworth." He waved and walked out the front door. Lisa nodded and followed suit.

_I was hoping to speak to someone about those letters Mina was receiving, but I guess that will have to wait until tomorrow._

He walked across the gravel driveway at the front of the estate towards his car, thinking about how he was in desperate need of a good cup of tea.

**To be continued...**


	4. Chapter 4

**Warnings:** mentions of suicide, passing reference to sexual harassment

* * *

><p><span>Chapter 4:<span>

Miles woke early the next morning; he never seemed to be able to sleep in when there was a case to be solved. His back ached and there was an uncomfortable throbbing between his eyes. After a hot cup of tea and some aspirin, the pain began to subside and he felt himself waking up. He didn't dawdle – there was work to be done after all – and he was soon out the door and off to the Prosecutor's Office.

Because of the time, he was one of the first to work. The halls were quiet; he only came across the occasional cleaner or security guard on his walk from the lobby up the twelve flights of stairs to his office. Once he was settled, he made himself another cup of tea and sat behind his desk, perusing the myriad files stacked there. There was no file on the van Hale case yet – it was too early in the morning for that. Instead, he jotted down all the significant points he had learnt yesterday during his investigation.

At ten past nine, his secretary Hannah, brought in the preliminary police report on Willamijna van Hale.

"Oh!" she said suddenly on her way out. She turned around and fiddled with the scarf around her neck. "I almost forgot to tell you: there'll be a case briefing down at Criminal Affairs this afternoon, 3 pm. The Chief requested that you be there," she smiled uncertainly.

"Thank you, Hannah," Miles said. The words were barely out of his mouth before she nodded and walked as quickly as she could to her desk outside his office. Miles shrugged, the girl had always seemed intimidated of him; at least that made her a reliable secretary.

He opened up the file; it wasn't very thick. It contained all the usual info: DOB, background, work, known associates, etc. – nothing he didn't already know. It was when he got to her medical history that he became intrigued. The file read that she had recently been prescribed sleeping pills as she'd complained of being unable to sleep.

_Insomnia. Both Daniel and Albert van Hale attested to that yesterday._

He closed up the file; it hadn't been of much use to him. Underneath it, however, he found another file labelled _Gardiner, Jamie._ At least that bumbling detective could do _something_ right.

Gardiner was a businessman. As far as Edgeworth could tell, he owned a number of financial institutions in his home country of Canada and several more in the US and Mexico. His passport indicated that he was currently in LA for business, no doubt the deal with Mina van Hale. Following the first page, there were several pages of email discourse. They all appeared to be between Gardiner and Mina. One in particular caught his attention:

* * *

><p><strong>From:<strong> W van Hale wvhale(AT)bankco..net

**Sent:** 28 June 2011 28/06/11

**To: **jgardiner(AT)cancorp..com

**Subject: **RE: Merger 405AS

Mr. Gardiner,

It appears we've reached an impasse. If you are unprepared to accept my conditions, I fear that we will be unable to close this deal.

I shall talk more of this to you next week at the meeting.

Regards,

Willamijna van Hale

* * *

><p>The email was dated only the day before Mina died, Miles noted. There was no reply email from Gardiner and all the previous emails concerned setting up times for meetings and luncheons.<p>

_So it seems Mina was going to _reject_ the business deal. Curious, everyone I spoke to seemed to be under the impression that the deal was going to go through._

He decided that he would have to go and see this Gardiner himself – he'd be the only one who could clear up this little mystery. Miles flicked the page over to the last of the file. It was titled "Criminal Record". His eyes widened slightly at that; he was not expecting van Hale to be associates with a criminal. The file said that one of Gardiner's employees had accused him of sexual misconduct and harassment back in '05. However, the woman had later withdrawn her accusations and the charges were dropped.

_Out of court settlement_, Miles sneered. He'd always been disgusted at the way powerful people were able to avoid the justice system by throwing around a little bit of cash.

"Mr. Edgeworth?" Hannah asked timidly. He'd been so absorbed in his work that he hadn't heard her come in. She'd opened the door a crack and was poking her head through as if she were terrified of what was inside.

"Yes, Hannah?" He rubbed his temples in frustration, his tolerance for her ridiculous behaviour wanning.

"Dr Croak says that he's ready when you are." At his blank expression she continued. "Dr Stanley Croak, the mortician. He has the preliminary autopsy report ready for you down at the morgue."

_Creepy Coroner. _"Right, of course." He closed the files and began to stack them neatly on his desk. "Thank you, Hannah," he said as an after thought when he noticed she was still standing there. She nodded and scurried off.

* * *

><p>The morgue had a floor all to itself, or rather half a floor – it was halfway between ground level and the basement. 'Level 0.5' it read on the lift. Edgeworth had always wondered if it had been inspired by Harry Potter until he'd been told that the morgue had been added in as an after thought. Definitely not as interesting a back story as it could have been.<p>

The stark whiteness of the hallway was in no way comforting, nor was the red stripe some genius had painted along the walls. It reminded Miles of a red gash cut into deathly white flesh. In some ways it was oddly fitting, considering the morgue was the only office on this level. Laughter echoed eerily down the hall, so he knew he was in the right place. At least Creepy Coroner was enjoying his time down here with the dead.

Edgeworth knocked on the door to the morgue and walked into the observation room. As he was putting on some scrubs, the coroner came in through another door, one that led from the observation room to the morgue itself.

"Ah, Mr. Edgeworth! Welcome, welcome. I trust you had a restful sleep after _such_ an exhausting day," he exclaimed a little too loudly in the small room. A huge grin was plastered on his face, his eyes dancing with excitement.

"Mm," Miles murmured in agreement. He snapped on some latex gloves and pulled a medical mask over his head and around his neck. He never liked the medical garb he had to wear on his rare visits to the morgue, especially because they were mint green. But if any prosecutor could pull it off, it would be him. He squared his shoulders and asked, "Shall we?" indicating to the door that led to the morgue.

"Ah, why yes of course. Right this way!" The coroner led the way and made a beeline for the examination table in the middle of the room. Lisa, the assistant, was at the far end of the room looking through a microscope then noting her findings on a clipboard. She lifted her eyes to Edgeworth and gave a curt nod in greeting before returning to her work. Now why couldn't her superior be as reserved as her?

The morgue was cool and smelt overpoweringly of disinfectant and decay. Miles shivered, but it was not from the cold. The coroner picked up a file from the tray next to the examination table and handed it over.

"The prelim autopsy," Creepy Coroner announced.

Edgeworth flicked through it quickly. Many of the pages were full of medical jargon and a few had labelled diagrams. He didn't read anything though; the coroner would be able to explain it all more simply than the file did. He turned to the coroner who was looking at him with expectant eyes and tucked the file under his arm. At the far end of the room, Lisa changed microscope slides.

"Atroquinine poisoning?" he asked, nodding at Mina van Hale's covered body. Creepy Coroner didn't pull down the cloth and for that Edgeworth was thankful.

"Yes it was. I found 3µg (micrograms) of the stuff in her bloodstream, which is over a lethal dosage." He had sobered up since greeting Miles. "Unsurprisingly," he continued, "she had very high Blood Alcohol Content; 0.19. She would have experienced over-expression, slurred speech, staggering, etc. She was very close to the level that can cause blackouts and stupors." The room went eerily silent as Miles took it all in. Even Lisa had stopped her work and was watching the exchange with emotionless eyes. Creepy Coroner shifted from foot to foot uneasily. Miles opened the file to the first page.

"So, time of death was between 2.30 and 3.30 yesterday morning. That's a very specific time frame…" He trailed off waiting for the coroner to explain.

"Ah, yes, I understand why you may be a little sceptical. Atroquinine continues to attack the body after death and does so in a very distinct, linear fashion. With this information, Lisa and I were able to determine such a small time frame from the level of damage the poison had caused." The coroner smiled as if proud of himself.

Edgeworth skimmed through the first page of the autopsy report, but the info he was looking for was not there. He decided it would be quicker to ask the coroner himself. "And where did you find the poison?"

"Ah, yes." Creepy Coroner clasped his hands together, excited. "The wine glass contained the poison. There was none in the bottle," he explained. "Oh and it was a match for that sample you gave me," he added as an after thought. Edgeworth nodded in reply; he had thought as much anyway. Lisa walked up to the pair having finished whatever it was she had been doing.

"There were a number of fingerprints on the wine bottle," she began, seemingly already bored with the conversation.

"That's not unusual," Miles replied. "The bottle had been opened on the night of the party – anyone could have picked it up."

Lisa nodded in agreement. "I thought it best you know in any case. Apart from the victim's," she looked pointedly at the body on the table, "Brigitte van Hale, Albert van Hale and the maid, Gertrude's fingerprints were present." She put her hands in her lab coat's pockets and appraised Edgeworth with blasé eyes.

"And I assume only Ms van Hale's fingerprints were found on the glass," he replied in the same uninterested tone Lisa had used. The question had been directed at Lisa, but Creepy Coroner decided to answer, perhaps sensing the tension that had arisen.

"Yes, yes," he said with an uneasy smile. "Just the victim's fingerprints were on the glass."

Miles flipped the autopsy report closed. "I think that will be all for now," he stated. "I'll ring if I have any questions." He nodded at the pair and turned towards the observation room.

"Good luck with the investigation," the coroner exclaimed as Edgeworth left the room. Lisa said nothing.

* * *

><p>After a quick lunch at his office reading the autopsy report, Edgeworth headed over to Criminal Affairs for the case briefing. The traffic was light today, so he arrived with plenty of time to spare.<p>

Walking into the station, he was immediately taken aback by how busy the place was. There were officers everywhere, scrambling to and from their desks. Many looked flustered; either their hair or tie askew.

_Must have caught a big case,_ Miles mused. He'd been too busy with the van Hale case to check the news.

"Mr. Edgeworth, sir!" Gumshoe exclaimed. Edgeworth turned to where the detective was pushing through the crowd – he seemed as dishevelled as everyone else.

"Detective," he nodded in greeting. "What's happened?" he asked, concerned.

The detective visibly deflated at that. He sighed deeply before answering. "There's been a shooting downtown, pa – I mean sir. 10 dead, more injured."

"I see. How terrible," he replied softly. He couldn't think of much more to add.

"It's good that you're early, sir. The Chief wants this meeting over as soon as possible. He's got more important stuff on his plate now," Gumshoe said miserably.

"I have no doubt that he does." Miles checked his watch, _2.30_ it read.

The pair weaved their way through the chaos of the precinct, towards the back where there was a hallway that led to a number of conference rooms and jail cells. There were only a few officers seated around the conference table and the Chief was pacing back and forth at the front of the room. When he turned towards the door, Miles saw worry marring his brow.

"Ah, Edgeworth," he said tiredly. "Please, take a seat. We need to get this over and done with ASAP." The Chief rubbed between his eyes to relieve his migraine, though the action was in vain. They sat down and the Chief flipped open the file in front of him. "Right," he began wearily. "Case ZX-2 – death of Willamijna van Hale. I think it's safe to say that this was a suicide; the coroner's report confirms this." A murmur of agreement came from the few officers in the room. Edgeworth went to protest, but the Chief cut him off. "So, tomorrow morning, you'll all write up your final reports and the case will be closed. Clear?" He said in a tone that left no room for disagreement. He didn't wait for an answer and he stood up, gathering his files and made his way to the door. The other officers followed suit.

"But s–"

"There will be no _but_s, Prosecutor Edgeworth. This is a cut and dry suicide," the Chief interrupted icily.

Edgeworth was unaffected by his tone and continued. "I have to disagree with you, sir. The investigation in no where near complete; I still have many avenues of enquiry to undertake."

"I'm sorry," the Chief began, sounding all _but _sorry. "The case is closed. There'll be no further discussion on this matter."

"Sir, I really don't think that is wise," he replied, copying Chief's icy tone. The Chief's eye twitched, clearly angered by Edgeworth's insubordinate behaviour. The last officer to leave the conference room glanced meekly at the pair as he hurried out the door.

The Chief cocked his head to the side. "_I_ don't think it's wise to question my authority on this matter, _Prosecutor_ Edgeworth," he spat. Edgeworth stood his ground, unperturbed.

"Her motive for suicide is unclear – "

"_Unclear?_" The Chief interrupted incredulously. "Next you'll be telling me you have this psychic feeling that something isn't right!" He shouted, a laugh bubbling to the surface. At that, Miles narrowed his eyes and looked thoroughly unimpressed. The two stared at each other in silence for a long moment before the Chief huffed in frustration.

"Fine," he grit out. "Keep investigating." He put on finger on Edgeworth's chest. "But know this: you will _not_ receive _any_ help from my men, except for Gumshoe. I won't have you wasting my time or resources when I have better things to be doing with them," he said very slowly, voice dripping with anger.

"Understood, sir," Edgeworth replied. The Chief turned on his heel and brusquely left the room. Miles let out a long sigh and with it went all the tension from that conversation. He and the Chief had never been on particularly good terms, but now any chance of acquaintanceship seemed impossible; this did however, not bother Miles. He was thankful though that he didn't run into the Chief on his way out. Gumshoe had left sometime during the quarrel and Miles didn't care to find him in the crowd to say goodbye.

* * *

><p>Having checked over the list he made earlier that morning, Edgeworth decided that he would head back to the van Hale estate to learn more about the mysterious letters Mina had been receiving. The meeting with the Chief had not lasted long and by the time Edgeworth was on the road, it was only 2.45pm. Again the roads were quiet and he arrived at the estate at 3.15. One lonely officer stood by the front door of the main house to oversee any last forensic work. He nodded as Miles walked up to the front door. He was greeted by the lovely Gertrude, who was polite as ever. When he asked to speak with the maids that handled the mail, she merely nodded and walked briskly down the west hall. After standing uncomfortably in the lobby for ten minutes, Gertrude returned with the blonde maid from yesterday, Katherine. They moved to a sitting room just off the main hallway to speak. It looked exactly the same as the room Mina had died in.<p>

"Miss Mina would always get one letter on Monday and one letter on Thursday," she began timidly. "There was no return address, I think they may have been hand delivered."

"Why is that?" he asked.

Katherine bit her lower lip in indecision. It seemed she didn't fully trust Miles with whatever she knew. "Well, they only had Miss Mina's name on them, you see. You can't mail a letter without an address," she stated matter-of-factly.

"Did she ever tell you about who sent them to her or what they were about?" he asked gently.

Katherine shook her head slowly. "She didn't tell me anything about them, sir. But she always was rather anxious to receive them, she was…" She trailed off deep in thought. She seemed to have something on her mind and Miles didn't want to interrupt until she voiced it. Her eyes widened in remembrance. "Oh!" she exclaimed. "She always sent out a reply letter without fail, she did. One every Tuesday and one every Friday."

"To who?" he asked anxiously.

Katherine's face saddened. "I don't know, sir. They didn't ever have any names," she replied dejectedly.

"You wouldn't perchance know the address she sent the letters to?"

Katherine fiddled with her dress and cast her eyes to the ceiling frowning in thought. "I think I may have a copy somewhere…" she said cautiously. "If you don't mind waiting, I'll go have a look."

"That would be wonderful, Ms Katherine," Miles replied with a smile. Katherine looked down; her cheeks flushed pink, nodded and left the room quickly.

About ten minutes later, Katherine hurried quickly back in the room with a piece of paper clutched to her chest. A number of conflicting emotions crossed her face. She finally settled on 'stern' as she handed over the paper. "Now I'm no busy body," she began. "Mrs. van Hale just requires us to record the addresses of all the letters we send off, she does. I swear it!" she stated defensively.

"That's alright, Ms Katherine," he replied as he took the paper. "I didn't think you were," he added kindly.

She smiled shyly at that and wrung her hands together. "I must be getting back to my duties if that's all…"

Miles stood. "Yes, that's all. You've been a great help."

After Katherine excused herself, Edgeworth took out his phone and called Gumshoe. On the fifth ring, the detective picked up.

"_My Edgeworth, sir! I didn't see you leave earlier"_ he exclaimed.

"You seemed busy enough; I didn't want to bother you. But that's not why I'm ringing. I need you to find out who lives here as soon as possible." He rattled off the address to Gumshoe.

"_Don't worry, sir! I'll have that for you within the hour!"_ Miles could almost hear the detective huffing with pride. He hung up without saying anything else – you could never get to the pleasantries of saying goodbye with the detective, he talked much too much. Silence filled the air as Miles reflected on what this new information could mean.

_Mina died on a Saturday… she would have sent a note on the Friday… _There was something pulling at the edges of his subconscious, but what was it? _Ah! The letter in her room – the one that was covering the Atroquinine. That could be the letter from Thursday!_

Wasting no time, Edgeworth hurried from the sitting room, down the main hall and up the stairs towards Mina's room. He didn't meet anyone along the way, which he was thankful for (Mr. and Mrs. van Hale were out making arrangements for the funeral).

Mina's room was exactly as he had found it yesterday. He rounded the bed to the side table and opened up the second drawer. The letter was sitting there just as he'd left it. He opened it up quickly, having no qualms in reading the dead girl's letter. His eyes widened in shock – the contents were not what he was expecting.

* * *

><p><em>Willamijna van Hale,<em>

_I write and write to you and yet you do not grasp the words. This shall be the last time I do – if you do not do as I demand, then I'm afraid your secret affair with daddy's friend shall no longer be a secret._

_As per usual, you are to send $5000 to the address I have given you._

_Next, you are to stop that vile affair – I shall know if you haven't._

_Thirdly, and most importantly, you are to reject the merger with Gardiner's firm. No matter what concessions he is willing to make, you are to reject the merger._

_You will not hear from me again. Beware of the consequences if you do not follow my instructions._

_X._

* * *

><p>The letter had been typed. Everything about it was nondescript. It was probably too late for a fingerprint analysis, but he would have one done just in case.<p>

This certainly made things a lot more complicated: he didn't know whether this would confirm the suicide theory or prove Mina had been murdered. It could go either way depending on the perspective you looked at it from. He folded up the letter and slipped it back into the envelope. What to do now? He would have to wait until morning to see Gardiner. Then it hit him: Cassandra Long – she knew about the affair, she'd admitted as much to Edgeworth yesterday.

He walked swiftly down the stairs and ran into Gertrude once more. Apparently, Ms Long had gone home late last night, not being able to stand this place anymore. He could understand why, but it made his life just that much more difficult. He was able to obtain her number from the staff and rang her up immediately. She sounded much better than she had yesterday, but there was still the expected melancholy in her tone. She agreed to meet him at his office tomorrow and the call ended shortly after.

Albert van Hale had mentioned the letters as well, but he was also away at the moment and had said he knew nothing about them. Edgeworth decided that there was nothing else he could do here and set off back to his office.

* * *

><p>When he arrived back at his office, Gumshoe was waiting for him.<p>

"Please tell me you have good news," Edgeworth said, exhausted. He sunk into his comfy desk chair and rested his elbows on the table, clasping his hands together. Gumshoe's shoulders slumped, his expression apologetic.

"I found the address but it turns out it's only a PO Box, sir."

Edgeworth sighed deeply and rubbed his temples. "I'm going to assume you couldn't find out who owned it," he stated.

Gumshoe rubbed the back of his head and glanced around the room. "That's right, sir. Whoever owned it paid in cash under what I think is a fake name – Mr. Incog."

Miles huffed out a laugh though there was no humour behind it. "Incog? As in incognito…" He shook his head, eyes drawn to the ceiling. "Why can't anything ever be simple?" he mumbled to himself.

"What was that, sir?"

"Nothing, nothing." He waved a hand in dismissal and leant back in his chair. "I'd like you to do two things for me, detective. One," he tapped a finger on the table, "ask Hannah to set up an appointment with Gardiner as early as possible. And two, I'd like you to check Ms Mina's financials."

"Sir?" Gumshoe looked puzzled by his second request.

"Right, you wouldn't know…" he trailed off as he reached into his vest pocket for a copy of the blackmail letter – he'd already sent the original off to be analysed for fingerprints. "Here." He handed over the copy to Gumshoe. The detective read it with surprise on his face. He nodded at Edgeworth and handed the letter back. Clearing his throat he said:

"I'll get right onto that, sir!" He saluted and left to talk to Hannah.

Miles sat back in his chair and looked up at the ceiling. After five minutes of clearing his head he rolled his shoulders, took out the list he had made this morning and began adding to it.

**TBC...**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: **I have a very limited understanding of economics and the like, so all the processes here are purely fiction.

**Warnings: **a little bit of swearing in this one, nothing too vulgar.

* * *

><p><span>Chapter 5:<span>

The next morning began much like the last: much too early and with more pain than was comfortable. Poring over case notes never did Edgeworth's back or head any favours. He took an aspirin with his tea and settled in front of the TV to catch up on the news, considering how out-of-touch he'd felt at the station. The shooting from yesterday was on every morning programme – one of the shooters had been taken into custody but the other had escaped and was on the run. The news reporter was standing in front of the crime scene, a sombre expression on his face. Behind him, people had gathered, mourners and rubbernecks alike, some wearing expressions of agony and sorrow, others morbid curiosity. The camera cut to where a memorial had already been set up: candles, flowers and photographs had been haphazardly placed on the ground. The sounds of sobbing and whispered prayers could be heard in the background. After a moment, the camera panned back to the reporter.

"Ivan Gool has yet to disclose his motives, but the police have ruled out the possibility of terrorism," he stated solemnly. "The Chief of police had this to say…"

At that, Miles switched off the TV with the remote. He'd had a long night and an even longer day ahead of him and he didn't want it to start on a bad note.

* * *

><p>"Mr. Edgeworth?" Hannah asked hesitantly as he walked by her desk. She looked extremely uncomfortable, sitting on the edge of her seat, fingers worrying the end of her white scarf. Her desk was littered with files and Post-It notes and a steaming cup of coffee rested to her left – Edgeworth felt mildly jealous.<p>

He rubbed his forehead and took a deep, calming breath; it took a great deal of effort to remain composed when talking to his skittish secretary. "Yes, Hannah, what is it?" He turned to face her desk, placing his free hand in his pocket and tapping his foot impatiently.

"The Chief requested that you see her as soon as you arrived," she replied uneasily. Her fingers trembled where she fiddled with her scarf.

"Right." He sighed looking down at his watch. "Tell her I'll be there in ten," he finished resignedly.

Hannah only nodded jerkily in reply and picked up the phone to call the Chief's secretary. In her haste, she knocked her cup of pens over and she dove to the floor to pick them up. Miles rolled his eyes at Hannah's clumsiness and walked into his office, placing his briefcase down by his desk. Hannah had stuck several Post-It notes on the table: there were two green – admin, one yellow – trial cases, and one pink – current cases. He ignored the yellow and green for now and peeled off the pink.

It read: '_Meeting w/ C Long 10am – office'_

Miles checked his watch again: _9.15._ He hoped the meeting with the Chief wouldn't take too long otherwise there'd be little time to prepare for the interview with Ms Long. He rubbed at his temples to ease the headache that was threatening to flare up again. When Lana Skye was imprisoned, Carl Redenbacher had become Chief Prosecutor. However, Carl was currently holidaying in Florida, so his second in command, Kate Katic, was acting Chief. Katic was fairly new in town, having practiced law for most of her career in New York. Apparently though, Edgeworth's reputation preceded him and it seemed the acting Chief wouldn't trust him as far as she could throw him. They hadn't talked much, but the few conversations they'd shared had been stilted to say the least and he had the distinct impression that he wasn't very well liked.

He took the stairs to level thirteen and walked towards room 1306. He had no idea why Katic wanted to see him; it certainly wasn't a social call. Maybe it was some sort of administration issue; after all there had been two green Post-Its on his desk. Damn it, why hadn't he read those?

When he reached 1306, he paused, steeling himself for the unpleasant conversation ahead. He knocked brusquely on the door and waited. Just as he was about to knock again, he heard the muffled 'come in' and opened the door.

The acting Chief was standing at the large window on the wall opposite the door, contemplating the city below. She turned when Edgeworth came in and motioned for him to sit, her expression blank. She had a fairly plain face, but her brown hair fell past her shoulders in perfect curls and her dark eyes glowed with intensity as if she were seeing into his soul. Admittedly, Miles found it a little unnerving.

"Chief," he said carefully in greeting as he sat opposite her.

"Mr. Edgeworth," she began, sitting down. "We have a very important matter to discuss," she announced ominously.

Miles waited silently as Katic shuffled through the files on her desk until she found the one she was looking for and pulled it out of the stack. She pushed the rest of the pile off to the side, setting the single file down in the middle of her desk almost reverently. She looked at it for a moment before directing her gaze to Edgeworth, features contorted in displeasure. This was not good.

"I received a phone call last night," she began, her tone giving away nothing. "Do you know who it was from?"

Edgeworth narrowed his eyes but said nothing. Katic leant back in her chair.

"The Chief of police." _Oh lovely, that's just what I needed._

His face must've betrayed his thoughts because Katic smiled smugly back at him. "I see you know why he did. Care to explain why he wants you punished for insubordinate behaviour?" she asked in mock curiosity, cocking her head to the side.

Miles exhaled through his nose, irritated. "It was merely a misunderstanding."

"Oh really?" she asked, unconvinced.

"_Yes,_ really. You can't close a case without the investigating prosecutor's consent."

"Ah," she said as if that were an adequate response. She flipped open the file on her desk and flicked through it, stopping when she found the page she was looking for. Whilst reading the page she mused aloud, "You really don't have a good track record, do you, Mr. Edgeworth?" She looked up to gage his response. When he gave none, she returned to her reading. "Taking into consideration your history, I wouldn't think it fair you go unpunished."

"Chief –"

"Questioning authority got you into this mess in the first place, did it not?" Her voice was dripping with condescension. She tutted as she closed the file and stood up; Miles followed suit. "I understand that you're on the van Hale case at the moment – you think it's a murder not a suicide, correct?"

"Yes, I believe so."

She considered this for a moment before continuing, her eyes staring fiercely into his own. "You may continue your murder investigation, but know this: once the case is satisfactorily closed, you will be appropriately disciplined. Do you understand?"

He nodded. "Understood."

"Good, dismissed," she announced brusquely and turned to the window once more. Edgeworth walked quickly out and shut the door with more force than was strictly necessary.

* * *

><p>"Call for you on line two," Hannah announced, phone pressed to her shoulder, two fingers in the air. She appeared more relaxed than she had been earlier. Miles nodded curtly and entered his office. He sat down at his desk and picked up the phone, switching to line two.<p>

"Miles Edgeworth speaking."

"Ah, Mr. Edgeworth! How are you this morning?" came the jovial response from Creepy Coroner.

"Croak, what news do you have?" he asked agitatedly, ignoring the coroner's question. After the meeting with Katic, he was in no mood to deal with Croak and wanted the conversation over as soon as possible.

"It's about the letter you sent me," Creepy Coroner answered, unperturbed by Edgeworth's tone. "'Fraid I've got nothing conclusive for you." He tried to sound apologetic, but there were strong undertones of cheerfulness in his voice. "The only fingerprints on there were the vic's, the maid's and yours." Well that was another lead down the drain, not that he expected anything more.

"Right. Thank you for your time."

"Ah, anytime, anytime," Croak responded with a chuckle.

Edgeworth hung up at that point – the coroner was just as unsettling on the phone as he was in real life. _No sane person who works with the dead for a living could be that happy all the time._

He quickly organised his files and notes for his interview with Cassandra Long as it was already 9.45 and he needed another caffeine hit if he was going to last the rest of the morning. Just as he was stirring milk in his coffee, Hannah knocked on his door and let Cassandra Long into his office. Miles stood up as he greeted her.

"Ms Long, I appreciate you coming down here," he said, extending his hand.

"My pleasure," she replied softly, taking his hand with a hesitant smile. She looked considerably better than she had on Sunday: her hair was pulled back in a neat ponytail, her make-up impeccable. She was wearing a sleeveless, high-collared navy blue frock with the same silver shawl from Sunday. Even so, there was still melancholy in her eyes and her smile was all wrong. They sat down at the same time, Miles offering her a drink to which she declined. On to business then.

"Ms Long," he began. At the pursing of her lips he corrected himself. "_Cassandra._ I need to ask you about Ms van Hale's relationship with Jamie Gardiner."

Cassandra shifted uncomfortably in her chair, hugging her shawl closer. She sighed in resignation. "They had a fairly… intimate relationship. And _yes_ that means they were sleeping together."

"She told you this?" he asked.

Cassandra looked a little taken aback. "God no," she replied as if the very idea was absurd. "No. I saw them together. They were a little too touchy-feely to be 'just friends'."

Edgeworth nodded and perused his notes for a moment. "On Sunday you told me that this was the cause of your falling out with her. Did you confront her about the affair?"

Cassandra crossed her arms, unhappy with where the conversation was heading. She cast her eyes down to Miles' desk and replied: "I did. I warned her that no good would come of it. God forbid her father or Albert found out…" She looked back up at Miles challengingly. "Albert was too good for her anyway," she stated petulantly.

_Well, well. I'm not surprised by this turn of events. Ms Long and Mr. van Hale had seemed very _intimate_ on the night of the murder and her statement just confirms this._

Edgeworth rifled through his papers and drew out a copy of the blackmail letter. "You say you _warned_ her, but are you sure you don't mean _threatened_?"

"What on earth are you talking about?" she demanded, offended. Miles slid the letter across the desk so that she could read it. Her outrage simmered down as she took up the letter cautiously. Her eyes grew comically wide. "Is this a blackmail letter? Was Mina being blackmailed? Oh my god, you think _I _blackmailed her?" She fired out the questions in quick succession, her face incredulous.

"You seemed to be very unhappy about Mina's affair. A little jealous perhaps of her marriage?"

"Now you listen here!" she shouted, standing up from her seat. She leant forward, finger pointing at Miles warningly, looking for all the world like she would start throwing punches. "I would _never_ blackmail Mina; she was my best friend! I told her to stop the affair because that's what any best friend worth their salt would do. I had no idea she was being blackmailed." Her breathing was coming quicker now and her body shook with rage.

"Ms Long…" he began slowly. "I didn't mean to offend, but you must appreciate I have to ask these questions." He lifted up both his hands in a placating manner. "You say you didn't black mail her? I believe you," he said sincerely. He didn't think anyone could manufacture that sort of anger so convincingly. Cassandra seemed to accept his words and sat back down silently.

"I'm sorry, it has just been an emotional time for me. I'm a bit overwhelmed," she said, apologetic. She fiddled with her shawl, embarrassed by her outburst.

"That's perfectly understandable, Ms Long. I just have one more question for you: Do you have any idea who the blackmailer could be?"

And wasn't this the question of the hour? Cassandra turned her head to the side, brow puckered, seriously considering her answer.

"Well," she began, turning to face Miles once more. "I think you should talk to Dr Newman. Mina had become quite interested in his work lately for some reason. She was reading those crime novels, you know? Newman has a lot of poisons you read about in those books…" She trailed off, another train of thought taking her attention. "Come to think of it, I'm not entirely sure why he has all those poisons to begin with; his PhD is only on Atroquinine after all."

Miles considered this for a moment. Newman had been very skittish the last time they spoke; he had complete access to the poison _and_ no alibi.

"He's the family doctor, is he not?" Edgeworth asked slowly.

Cassandra nodded. "Yes. Brigitte's mother used to live at the estate – she was very sickly. Newman was hired to look after her. When she passed away three or four years ago, the van Hale's decided to keep him on staff."

"And you don't know the exact reason why Mina became interested in his work?"

She shrugged, palms facing upwards. "Nope, she didn't tell me. I just assumed it was because of the novels." Cassandra sighed wearily. "I should have asked, paid more attention. Maybe then – "

"Her death was not your fault, Ms Long," he said, cutting her off. Of course, she was still a suspect, but Miles was playing the 'good cop' routine to get as much info out of her as possible.

"If you say so," she responded, but her tone revealed her scepticism for his comforts. She played with the frayed ends of her shawl and asked, "Are we done here? I'd like to go home and rest." She said this without looking up with a tone of finality. She lifted her gaze to Miles; her eyes had hardened, mouth pulled into a thin line.

It seemed he wasn't going to learn anything more from her; mentally, she'd already packed up her things and had one foot out the door. "Yes that will be all for know," he replied finally.

"Good." She stood up and shook his hand. "I'll be seeing you."

"Til next time, Ms Long."

"Til next time," she echoed. Turning on her heel, she sauntered out of his office.

_So, Dr Newman's work seems like a new avenue of investigation._ Miles checked his schedule: he might be able to fit in an interview with the doctor, but he had a meeting with the business partner, Jamie Gardiner. Who knows how long that would take? Sighing, Edgeworth picked up his cup of coffee and took a sip, only to find it had gone unpleasantly cold.

* * *

><p>Gumshoe met him in the Prosecutor's car park, dishevelled from his rush to be on time. Edgeworth wasted no time getting into the car – he wanted to be out of here ASAP. Ever since the incident with Lana Skye and Detective Goodman, he had never felt comfortable here (He'd taken to parking at the far end of the car park to avoid the place where Goodman's body had been found in the boot of his car).<p>

"Gooood morning, Mr. Edgeworth, sir!" Gumshoe exclaimed as he climbed into the car. The smell of instant noodles filled the car's interior; Miles immediately opened his window – there was no way the Detective was going to unwittingly sully his beautiful car.

"Detective," Miles replied curtly, trying to keep the grimace off his face.

Gumshoe seemed oblivious. "I brought the vic's financial records, just like you asked, sir!"

"Excellent. What did you find?" he asked as he reversed out of the car space.

He saw Gumshoe deflate in his peripheral vision; bad news then. "Not much, sir," the Detective stated forlornly. "There was no indication that she'd been paying the blackmailer off. The most she'd spent this past month had been $200 on a pair of reading glasses." Gumshoe sounded like a kicked puppy… if puppies could speak, that is.

Miles swiped his parking ticket and drove through the boom gate, exiting the parking lot. "Something's not right here. The letter seemed to suggest that she _had_ been paying the blackmailer. Perhaps someone paid it for her?" he glanced over to Gumshoe for agreement.

"That don't seem unlikely, sir," he replied. Edgeworth internally winced at the detective's bad grammar, but chose not to correct him (it hadn't worked in the past, why should it now?). "Should I check the rest of the family's records?"

"You'd best do so; we need to investigate all possible leads." He saw Gumshoe nod in the corner of his eye.

After that, they lapsed into silence til they arrived at Jamie Gardiner's offices. They were located in the old industrial district, the buildings, once warehouses, had since been converted into upmarket apartments and offices. Opposite Gardiner's HQ was the foreshore; a long, winding boardwalk of grey wood followed the river. To the left, a large deciduous tree towered over the three-storey office. The main lobby of the building practically took up the whole ground floor. The ceilings were high, large metal beams hung from one wall to the other, remnants of the warehouse days. The walls were all painted off white and the floors were polished concrete. The designers of this place were clearly going for the whole obnoxious minimalist feel and they succeeded.

Gardiner's personal office was on the third floor of the building. When the pair got there, Gardiner's secretary, a twenty-something blonde man, informed them that Gardiner was taking a business call and would they mind waiting?

A myriad certificates and degrees lined the walls: from where Miles was sitting he could read _Doctorate of Economics, Masters of Business, Bachelor of Law_. Very impressive.

Ten minutes later, the secretary told them that Gardiner was ready to see them.

"Mr. Edgeworth," Gardiner greeted, standing behind his desk, arms outstretched. "I've heard so much about you." He rounded his desk and came to shake Edgeworth's hand.

"Mr. Gardiner," he greeted.

"It's nice to finally meet you," Gardiner exclaimed shaking his hand vigorously. Gardiner was not a tall man, about 4 inches shorter than Edgeworth and appeared to be of Eurasian descent. "And you must be Detective Gumshoe," he said, turning towards the detective.

"That's right, sir!" Gumshoe replied, saluting.

"Please, have a seat." Gardiner walked back to his desk and reclined back in his chair, swivelling from side to side. "What might I do for you, gentlemen?"

"We'd like to ask you a few questions about Willamijna van Hale," Edgeworth responded, sitting down.

Gardiner's cheerful smile dropped instantly. "Ah, right of course. It's so sad; I truly liked the girl. To think she would commit suicide…"

"Actually, I believe she was murdered," Miles corrected.

"_Murdered?_ Ooh, how intriguing." He rubbed his hands together, smile reforming. Miles decided he already disliked Gardiner; the man had gone from mournful to excited in a heartbeat.

"We've reason to believe that you and Ms van Hale were intimately involved. Is that correct?"

A sly smile spread across Gardiner's face. He swivelled in his chair and turned his palms upwards. "What can I say? I'm an attractive man, she was an attractive girl…"

"She was married, you know," Miles stated, unimpressed.

"Psssh." He waved his right hand in dismissal. "She was a big girl; she knew what she was doing."

Gumshoe shifted in his chair uncomfortably, sensing the anger radiating from Miles.

"Right then," Edgeworth began slowly, keeping all trace of emotion out of his voice. "What do you know about this?" He took the letter out of his jacket's inside pocket and handed it over to Gardiner. Gardiner's expression turned to one of boredom and he threw the letter down on his desk.

"I knew all about it. It's old news, gentlemen." Edgeworth quirked an eyebrow. _Well… That was unexpected._

"And how did you find out about it?" he asked suspiciously.

"She told me," Gardiner replied simply.

"She told you?" Miles echoed, incredulous.

"Well, she _was_ drunk at the time – she gets very chatty when she's drunk," he answered with an amused smile. Edgeworth didn't acknowledge Gardiner's reply and stared at him with narrowed eyes. The only sound that could be heard was the ticking of the wall clock and Gumshoe's pencil scratching on his notepad as he took notes.

_ Tick, tick. Scratch, scratch._

"Is that _all_?" Edgeworth asked finally.

Gardiner put his hands behind his head. "When she was sober, we discussed the matter, sorted it out." He shrugged.

"Sorted it out how?"

"I gave her the money as a little business gift. Besides, what's $5000 here and there?" He seemed extremely satisfied with himself. It was a little disgusting.

_So that's why we didn't find anything odd with her financials._ At least some of the pieces of this puzzle were coming together. And now the other issue…

"You and Ms van Hale were negotiating a merger, were you not?"

Gardiner put his hands down on the chair's armrests. "We were – merging her father's company _Bankco_ with my _Cancorp_. What about it?" he asked curiously.

"As part of my investigation, I looked into her email discourse, specifically with you." Gardiner made a gesture for Miles to continue. "There was one email…" He turned to Gumshoe. The detective fumbled in his trench coat and retrieved a copy of the email. He cleared in throat and read it out.

"_It appears we've reached an impasse. If you are unprepared to accept my conditions, I fear that we will be unable to close this deal."_

"Ah, yes… _That_." Gardiner said. He contemplated for a moment before speaking again, smiling smugly. "I must confess, I have a little secret: I didn't actually want the merger."

"What?" Miles asked, dumfounded.

"You see van Hale – the father, that is – and I were never friends, acquaintances yes, but friends no. About 8 years ago we were business partners and he pulled some dodgy stunts that earned him millions but sent my company under." He paused here and leant forward resting his elbows on the desk fingertips pressed together Mr. Burns-style. "Now, the GFC hit van Hale pretty hard, his company is very close to going bust. I _pretended_ that I was interested in a merger to suss out the inner dealings of _Bankco._"

"But why would you do that, sir?" Gumshoe piped up.

"Here's the beauty of it all: rejecting the merger would mean definite bankruptcy for _Bankco_. When he begins to sell of his shares to salvage his company, I'll buy him out. It'll cost dramatically less than the merger, plus I'd own his whole company rather than be co-owner of a branch of it."

"So you were just playing him the whole time?" Edgeworth asked, shocked.

"Correct," Gardiner responded leaning back in his chair, satisfied.

So he had purposely made sure that he and Ms van Hale would arrive at an impasse. Crafty son of a bitch.

Said crafty son of a bitch glanced at the wall clock and pursed his lips. He turned back to Edgeworth, a mock sad expression of his face.

"I'm afraid we're out of time, gentlemen. I quite enjoyed our little chat." He stood up and walked towards the door. Edgeworth and Gumshoe followed – there wasn't much more to discuss with him. "Feel free to come back any time."

"Thank you, Mr. Gardiner, I'll keep that in mind," Miles replied as a farewell.

"Sir!" Gumshoe saluted, Gardiner copied him. Miles strode out of Gardiner's office, Gumshoe in tow. There was still much work to be done.

* * *

><p>It was around lunchtime when Edgeworth arrived back at his office. Hannah wasn't at her desk when he walked passed – probably on her lunch break. The first thing he did was make himself a hot cup of black coffee. He took a sip as he turned on his computer feeling rejuvenated already. Gumshoe was needed down at Criminal Affairs for a meeting concerning the mass shooting, so Edgeworth decided to do a little research of his own. He logged into the LA Crime Database and typed in 'Michael Newman'. As the results were loading, there was a furious knock at his door. Miles sighed; he wasn't ever going to get a moments peace, was he?<p>

"Come in," he said wearily.

Daniel van Hale burst into his office and walked swiftly to his desk before Miles could so much as greet him. His face was twisted in anger, eyes narrowed, mouth snarling.

"Mr. van Hale, what can I – "

"Oh spare me your pleasantries," he spat. "What are you doing investigating Mina's bank accounts?" Although his stance mirrored that of Ms Long's this morning, van Hale wasn't shouting; rather he was snarling through clenched teeth.

_How the hell did he know we checked her accounts? He must have _a lot_ of contacts in the police department._

"Mr. van Hale," he began calmly. "Please sit. I will gladly discuss this with you." Though it would be in the form of a suspect interview, not a friendly chat. Van Hale sat down slowly, eyes never leaving Edgeworth's. He had calmed visibly, but his movements were stiff on account of him trying to veil his anger.

"So, out with it."

Miles slid the blackmail letter over to him, struck by a case of déjà vu. Daniel was just as surprised at the contents as Cassandra had been.

"Where did you find this?" he asked carefully.

"The same place we found the Atroquinine: in her bedroom."

van Hale nodded slowly. "I see," he mumbled. "I had no idea. Why didn't she tell me?"

"There are many reasons why people keep blackmail a secret, Mr. van Hale, you should know: embarrassment, fear, distrust…"

"She could've trusted me," he said sadly.

"People act in the most odd ways in these sorts of circumstances… I assume this means you had no idea?"

"Yes, yes I had no idea," van Hale confirmed.

"So you didn't know she was going to reject the merger?" Miles asked.

"If I'd known, I would have stopped her," Daniel said firmly. He placed the letter gently back onto Edgeworth's desk.

Miles leant back in his chair and steeled himself for the outrage that his next question would bring. "If I recall correctly, the night Mina died you took a business call. Didn't seem too pleased about it; same for the morning after."

"You can't seriously be suggesting that I knew she was going to reject the merger before she died?" he asked wearily, rubbing his forehead. It seemed all the fight in him had been drained. At that moment, he looked years older than he actually was.

"It was a very important deal for your company, Mr. van Hale. You can't seriously expect me to think you didn't keep an eye on proceedings."

"I'm afraid I didn't."

Miles narrowed his eyes – he didn't appreciate being lied to, especially by an old friend.

"I talked to your 'friend' Jamie Gardiner this morning." _That_ got his attention. "It seems that if this deal doesn't go through, your company will go bust."

Daniel sighed. "Alright fine. I talked to Gardiner both those times – tried to convince him to reconsider his terms because Mina wouldn't budge. Happy?" The man seemed uncharacteristically exhausted.

"That raises just one issue: if you couldn't stop Mina with words, did you stop her with poison instead?"

"What?" he mustered up his last bit of anger. "You can't be serious. I wouldn't – no I _couldn't_ – murder my own daughter!"

Miles remained unperturbed by his anger. "If you didn't kill her, then what's your alibi?"

van Hale clenched his jaw, restraining himself from further anger. "I was with my wife in bed."

"The whole night?"

"_The whole night."_

"I'll make sure to check with your wife, Mr. van Hale," Miles said calmly.

"I'm sure you will," van Hale replied seethingly as he pushed himself to his feet. Without another word, he turned and headed for the door.

"I'll be seeing you, Mr. van Hale," Edgeworth called warningly. Daniel didn't react and slammed the door on his way out.

Miles sunk into his chair; he was absolutely drained. From Katic to Long to Gardiner to van Hale – he'd had enough. He reached over to take a comforting sip of coffee… the drink had turned cold.

Edgeworth groaned as he stood up to pour another cup.

**To be continued...**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N:** This is only a short update as it is wrapping up the first part to this story. Part 2 will come soon and will continue on from chapter 7. Enjoy!

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><p><span>Chapter 6:<span>

Edgeworth returned to his computer, set on researching Dr Newman as he had before he'd been so rudely interrupted. He woke the computer from sleep mode and began sorting through the results. Five 'Michael Newmans' had popped up, but none of them were doctors. Miles let out a frustrated sigh; although it was good that the van Hale's hadn't hired a criminal as their family doctor, it meant that another avenue of investigation had been cut off. He closed the crime database and opened the general police database that had access to driver's licences, employment, kin and the like. He hadn't realised that Michael Newman was such a common name with his search yielding over 50 results. He added 'Doctor' in the title section of the advanced search and only two names popped up. He clicked on the first file, as he was only concerned about the one currently living.

Miles let out a sigh of relief when Dr Newman's driver's licence photo loaded – that was definitely the man he was after. He skimmed through the various sections of the file: birth certificate, education, employment, and found nothing out of the ordinary. His qualifications were all in check and he had a modest employment history. The file revealed nothing about why Newman would need all those poisons, only that he was currently enrolled in LA Online University undertaking a PhD in Biomedical Science.

Edgeworth sat back in his chair and took a long sip of his (thankfully) steaming-hot coffee. His research had been unhelpful; no questions had been answered. He sighed deeply and grimaced at the prospect of having to talk to the doctor again – an experience he had hoped not to repeat.

_He's probably going to be even more on edge than last time since I'll be questioning him as a suspect. Lovely._

He rubbed his temples, headache from this morning returning. His vision began to blur as he shut down the computer. _When did it get so bright in here?_ He stood up and walked over to the window. Down below, people were scurrying along, their shadows growing long in the fading light, hurrying to beat peak hour. Miles pulled the magenta curtains closed, blocking the glare of the sunset. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath to regain his composure. When he opened them, his vision was back to normal and the headache only a dull sensation in his temples. He sat back down and stared at his desk, eyes adjusting to the darkened room, thinking about nothing in particular. After a moment, he shook his head, orienting himself back in the here and now.

_Newman has a lot to answer for: his research, vast array of poisons, and Mina's motives for hanging around. _(Put like that, it sounds horrible, as if no one would want to hang around Newman for the pleasure of his company.) For now, there was not much else to look into concerning the doctor; Miles would have to drop in for a visit tomorrow.

_What to do now?_

After a moment of thinking, he pulled out a piece of paper from his desk drawer and wrote _'Blackmail Suspects'_ in neat cursive at the top of the page. He decided to review what he'd learnt today in the hope that it would bring him closer to solving this particular mystery.

_Well, the most obvious suspect is Cassandra Long. She knew all about Mina's affair with Jamie Gardiner._ He wrote her name down on the page. _This morning it sounded like she was jealous of Mina's marriage to Albert._ He recalled what she had said spitefully: _"Albert was too good for her anyway." _Yes, Edgeworth hadn't been all too surprised at that; he'd suspected that Cassandra was sweet on Albert.

_Affair with Albert vH?_ He wrote beneath her name. On the night of Mina's death Albert had chosen Cassandra's company over his wife's, so it didn't seem like a stretch to think the two were more than friends. Even if this wasn't the case, Cassandra seemed to like Albert enough that she may have wished this were true.

There was just one thing not quite right. Miles rested his chin on his left hand and narrowed his eyes in consideration. If Cassandra _was_ the blackmailer, then why did she want Mina to reject the merger? Had she even known the nature of the deal? She seemed fairly vague about it when he'd first talked to her at the guesthouse, but perhaps her head had just been clouded with grief. In any case, she could've easily found out; Mina was the sort of person who would tell her all about it anyway.

_The more pressing issue,_ Miles mused, _would be her motivations for using this in the blackmail letters. What could she possibly achieve through the rejection of the merger? _Edgeworth bit his bottom lip; this was where his reasoning became weak – she could have used it as a red herring to hide her identity from Mina. _But the blackmail letters were already completely anonymous… if anything, using the merger in the letters narrowed down the list of possible suspects. _Edgeworth's pen hovered over the page in indecision. _It's the best explanation I have so far…_ After thinking about it for a moment he wrote it down; he could always change it later.

This brought him onto his second suspect: Jamie Gardiner. He didn't want the merger to begin with, so the blackmail letters could have been used to encourage Mina to reject the deal. He could have easily started up the affair with Mina solely for the sake of leverage; Miles didn't think he would have any qualms outing their affair if he needed to. Plus, Gardiner had admitted to paying the blackmailer off; he wouldn't be losing any money if he were paying himself. But, Miles thought it a bit implausible that a big shot businessman like Gardiner would so readily depart with his money for a lover. _I__f he were already set out at arriving at an impasse, why would he need to blackmail Mina?_ That would be unnecessary. _Perhaps for a little incentive? Or maybe he's just a megalomaniac?_ Yes, that seemed like the more likely reason. He was the kind of person who enjoyed messing with people; the whole phoney deal with van Hale just proved that. Still… just like in the case of Cassandra Long, his reasoning wasn't very strong and he had no evidence to support either suspicions.

Miles put the pen down angrily on the desk and ran both hands through his hair in frustration. He needed evidence badly; witness testimony could only go so far. He stared down at his suspect list, trying to come up with new theories in vain. He ruled out Brigitte and Daniel van Hale as suspects; neither would have profited from the rejection of the merger, quite the opposite. Albert didn't seem to have a reason for blackmailing Mina either; if he had known about the affair he probably would have confronted Mina about it. Blackmail wasn't usually the course of action taken by a spurned husband. And Dr Newman… well, Miles would be talking to him tomorrow, though he was probably the least likely suspect… unless his companionship with Mina turned out to be more sinister than it appeared.

Edgeworth was slipping the page into the preliminary police report when there was a soft knock on his door.

"Come in," he called as he placed the file on the side of his desk.

Hannah walked meekly up to his desk clutching a file. "The police crime scene report," she announced cautiously, beckoning Miles to take it from her.

"Thank you, Hannah," he stated simply. She nodded silently and hurried out of the office, shutting the door with great care.

_The crime scene report…_ he'd been wondering when this would come. _Everyone's working on the shooting, that's probably why it's late._ He was glad that it came now though; otherwise he would've had nothing else to do. He flicked through the file quickly to see what it contained: crime scene photos, the final coroner's report, witness affidavits and the evidence analysis. First matter of business: the crime scene photos. He pulled out the first one – it was a picture of Mina slumped in her chair… And there came the feeling that something was wrong. _What is it with this picture? Why do I have such a problem with it?_ The positioning of her body was just as unnatural to Miles as it had been on Sunday. But there was something else… something pulling at the edges of his consciousness, something he couldn't identify. _Was it –?_

_**Ring, Ring. Ring, Ring.**_

The shrill ringing of his office phone interrupted his thoughts. _Damn it! Why now? I almost had it!_ He picked up the stupid thing. "What?" he demanded irked.

"Oh Miles, is this a bad time?" came the accented reply that could only be Brigitte van Hale.

"Mrs. van Hale," he acknowledged slowly, trying to keep the annoyance out of his tone. He grimaced, rubbing the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. "No, it's alright," he lied. "I've just had a long day. What can I do for you?"

"I just rang to apologise for my husband's behaviour earlier this afternoon – he was out of line to question your motives."

Miles sighed. "There's no need to apologise, it's perfectly understandable, Mrs. – "

"No it's not, Miles," she interrupted. "Don't justify his behaviour – he knows better. He _was_ a lawyer himself after all." She sounded like a schoolteacher lecturing a disobedient student.

"In any case, I've had much worse," he assured her. He honestly had been subjected to worse, especially the likes of Wendy Oldbag. He shuddered just at the thought. Brigitte's voice (fortunately) brought him back from his musings.

"That's no excuse," she replied, miffed.

"It's already forgiven, Mrs. van Hale; don't worry about it."

There came a long sigh from the other end of the line. "If you insist, Miles," she said in acquiescence. "But that's not the only reason I've called," she added quickly. "I know it's short notice, but I'd be so happy if you came to the funeral tomorrow morning."

"Oh no, I really couldn't, Mrs. van Hale," he began politely. "I would feel like I was intruding – "

"Oh nonsense!" she exclaimed. "We'd love to have you; anyway, you came to our party on Saturday – you'd hardly be intruding."

Miles rubbed his forehead in exasperation; how could you turn down a funeral invitation over the phone? He sighed. Now it was his turn to acquiesce. "If you're certain…"

"Of course I am!" she scoffed. "The service is in the Henry James Memorial Centre at Hillsdale Cemetery." Miles scrambled to write it down on a scrap of paper. "It starts at 10," she finished.

"Right. I shall see you there then, Mrs. van Hale."

"Yes, til tomorrow," she replied, a hint of sadness in her tone.

Edgeworth hung up then and leant back in his chair. Just like anyone, he hated going to funerals. _But it has to be done. Maybe if I'm lucky I'll be able to do some investigating._ Inconspicuously of course, no one would appreciate a fully-fledged interview on the day of a funeral. _Somehow I don't think that would go down well._

Sighing, he turned his attention back to the crime scene report. That awful feeling you get when you know something's missing coiled in the pit of his stomach as he looked at the photos again. Whatever epiphany he was about to have before was gone. To say he was frustrated was a gross understatement. He wasn't going to achieve anything by staring at the photos any longer, so he flipped to the next section of the report. The evidence analysis yielded nothing new and the only difference between the old and new coroner's reports were a few inconsequential post-mortem bruises. The final section of the report was the witness affidavits. Everyone at the party, barring himself, had recorded that night's events. Unfortunately, their alibis hadn't been recorded – obviously whoever compiled the report didn't receive the memo that it was now a murder investigation.

_Just my luck,_ he thought sardonically, shutting the file angrily. It was then that he noticed how dark it had become; he glanced at his watch: _6.45._ He blew a wayward strand of hair from his eyes. There wasn't much else he could do here; examining those photos could be done in the comfort of his own home. Standing up, he stretched his back and winced when it made an unnervingly loud pop. He gathered up the crime scene report and tidied up his desk.

Hopefully he'd have better luck solving the mystery of those photos after a long, hot shower.

**To be continued...**

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><p><strong><span>END OF PART 1; PART 2 CONTINUES NEXT CHAPTER<span>**


	7. Chapter 7

**Atroquinine Merlot **

**PART 2**

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><p><strong>AN: **Hi, sorry for such the long delay - uni has been pretty hectic as of late. Thank you to everyone who has reviewed, fav'd, etc I really appreciate it. I've **_changed the rating from T to M_** because of FFnet's recent crackdown. So it's not really a reflection of more mature content, I'm just being cautious. Enjoy the chapter!

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><p><span>Chapter 7:<span>

The light of a new morning shone through Edgeworth's bedroom window, but he was still in the dark about the mystery of those photos. Today was the day of Mina's funeral so Miles hadn't stayed up too late last night. _So why does it feel like I've only slept for an hour?_

Miles groggily got out of bed and went about his usual morning routine, but instead of wearing his normal suit and cravat get-up he chose a simple black suit and tie more appropriate for the occasion. As he finished off the last dregs of his coffee, Miles quickly skimmed over the photos again where they'd been left scattered the night before. Unfortunately (but predictably), the examination did not provide any new insights. Sighing in frustration, Edgeworth gathered up the photos and slid them back into their folder. He collected his keys and phone and set off to Hillsdale Cemetery.

* * *

><p>The trip to the cemetery was a short and easy one: it was located just outside the city so all the peak traffic was going the other way. After Miles parked the car and followed the signs to the Henry James Memorial Centre, finding it easily enough by the crowd of appropriately sombre people. He checked his watch; it was already 9.45. As he approached the outskirts of the assembled, the doors to the centre opened and the guests slowly began to make their way inside.<p>

"Oh Miles, thank you for coming," Brigitte greeted as she stepped out of the crowd. She'd taken him by surprise, but he schooled his features to hide it.

"Mrs. van Hale," he replied as she pulled him into a hug. He stood awkwardly in her arms for a few seconds before she reluctantly pulled away. Brigitte smiled sadly up at him; her eyes glazed by unshed tears.

"We don't have much time to talk – the service is about to begin." She glanced left to right anxiously then leant forward conspiratorially. "Afterwards, there is something very important I must tell you," she announced ominously. "Promise to stick around for a little while after?"

"Of course," he replied with a nod. "Shall we?" he motioned for them to walk into the centre. When they got inside the two said goodbye; Brigitte went to sit with the rest of the family in the first row and Miles found a remaining spot right at the back. He looked to the first row and found that all the suspects were there: Albert (with his head in his hands), Cassandra (awkwardly trying to console him while keeping composed herself), Daniel (holding his wife's hand) and Dr. Newman (looking remarkably composed considering the circumstances). As if he could feel Edgeworth's eyes on his back, Newman turned around, eyes growing wide when he spotted the prosecutor. He gave a jerky nod of his head in acknowledgement and spun around quickly to stare at the wall in front, unmoving. Miles fought the urge to smirk – that would be wildly inappropriate.

He was just turning his mobile off when the celebrant walked up to the podium. "If you'd all quieten down. I think we'll begin…"

* * *

><p>When the service ended, people began milling out of the centre, whispering in hushed tones, sniffing and coughing. Luckily, as Miles had been sitting at the back, he was able to exit first, just after the van Hales had. A strong wind had picked up during the service and Miles pulled his suit jacket tighter around him in an attempt to avoid the bitting chill. The guests had assembled in small groups talking quietly amongst themselves. Most would be going to the wake afterwards at the estate; Miles didn't have that sort of time to spare so he went to search for Brigitte to see what she wanted to tell him. The family, of course, were surrounded by guests all coming to offer their condolences. Brigitte and Daniel were standing arm in arm, looking years older than their age, as they thanked their guests for their kindness. Albert and Cassandra were standing off to the side, close enough to the van Hales that they could here their conversation, but far enough away that they received separate condolences. Cassandra had her dark hair down today; fashioned to cover a great portion of her tear stained face. She was wearing a black, long-sleeved frock with a thick dark scarf wrapped around her shoulders. Albert was wearing a similar suit to Edgeworth; his hair impeccably gelled and face clean-shaven. The two both stood with shoulders hunched and their eyes puffy and red. Dr Newman was nowhere in sight.<p>

As Miles neared the family, the last of the sympathetic guests moved away, leaving him as the next to talk to the van Hales.

"Edgeworth," Daniel greeted extending a hand. His expression was grim. Miles took his hand and shook it once.

"Mr. van Hale." He turned to face his wife. "Brigitte," he nodded. Before he could say anything more, she pulled him into another hug. By the time she pulled away, Daniel had walked off to talk to an elderly couple.

"It was a beautiful service," Miles offered, unsure what else he could say.

Brigitte smiled sadly up at him, a hint of pride shinning in her eyes. "Yes it was. Cassandra did it all herself, you know? She has a talent for those sorts of things…" Her attention was drawn from Miles to somewhere over his shoulder behind him. "Oh Cynthia!" she greeted.

Miles turned and saw a brunette woman sporting a perm approaching. She smiled playfully and placed a comforting gloved hand on Brigitte's shoulder.

"Brigitte, my dear, it has been too long," she declared in a nasally voice. Cynthia glanced over to Edgeworth and gave him an appraising look. Turning back to Brigitte, she said: "Well, I won't keep you. I'll see you back at the estate." With a wave, she sauntered off in the direction of the car park, waving goodbye to various other guests.

"Cynthia was one of my dearest friends after Mina was born," Brigitte explained with a nostalgic tone. "Now where was I? Oh that's right!" She took one of Edgeworth's hands into both her own. "What I wanted to discuss can't be done here. If you'd be so kind as to come back to the house…"

"Of course, it's not a problem," he reassured her, although he would have preferred to get it over and done with. No matter what Brigitte said otherwise, he felt like he had no place to be here.

A relieved smile graced Brigitte's face. "Thank you, Miles. We may not be able to speak straight away – I have to help Cassandra with the food and the like, but I think what I have to show you will be worth your while."

"Brigitte!" Daniel called. He was standing at the edge of the car park with Albert and Cassandra. "We're heading back now."

"Well I'll see you there then, Miles," she offered in goodbye.

"Goodbye Mrs. van Hale." Brigitte hurried to her family and they all climbed into the black limo that had been parked at the curb. As it drove off, Miles began his journey towards his own car. He pulled his mobile out of his pocket and turned it on – he hadn't heard from Gumshoe since yesterday morning and the detective may've had something to report. As he opened the car door and sat in the driver's seat, the message alert on his phone went off. It wasn't from the detective as he'd expected.

_Sender: Phoenix Wright_

_Received: Today, 11.55am_

_Haven't seen you in ages :(_

_Coffee today/tomorrow afternoon?_

_PW :)_

Miles exhaled, irked. That spikey-haired attorney could be damn persistent with these sorts of things. So, Miles replied:

_Can't – working on case._

Hopefully that would deter Wright for now. After pressing send, he put the phone on silent and tossed it onto the passenger seat so he wouldn't be disturbed whilst driving.

* * *

><p>The estate's large U-shaped driveway was full of cars when Miles arrived so he ended up parking about 20 metres from the exit gate. Gertrude was waiting at the front door to greet the guests (<em>bad idea<em>) and when she saw Edgeworth approach, her face twisted into a sneer.

"That way," she said brusquely, indicating to the hallway that ran to the west wing. Miles didn't grace her with a response and walked swiftly down the hall to the dinning room where most of the guests had already gathered. He recognised it as the same room they dined in on the night of Mina's death. Most people were standing in groups of threes or fours, a glass of champagne or other alcoholic beverage in hand. Many were sharing good-natured conversations, catching up on years gone by. Mr. and Mrs. van Hale were speaking with a young couple and their (presumably) teenage daughter over by the Monet painting. Cassandra was with some of the wait staff, making sure that the food was being served in the proper order. The work seemed to be a decent distraction as her face looked brighter and livelier than it had at the funeral. Soft classical music was playing through the sound system, but the noise of the guests was making it difficult for Miles to discern which piece it was. He was still straining to identify the melody when Albert came from the hall and slapped him firmly on the back in greeting.

"Good to see you made it, Edgeworth," Albert said as Miles turned to face him, trying to keep the irritation off his face.

"Yes, Mrs. van Hale has an important matter to discuss with me," he answered measuredly.

"Ah, here for business then…" Albert seemed a little disappointed at that. Getting a better look at the man, he appeared to be coping significantly worse today than he had on Sunday morning. His eyes were bloodshot and puffy, probably from a combination of crying and lack of sleep. His shoulders were hunched like they had been at the funeral, giving the illusion that he was an inch shorter than Miles. Thank goodness he had shaved off his perpetual five O'clock shadow otherwise he would've looked absolutely terrible. The pair stood side by side, both looking onto the wake in front of them. Albert sighed wearily and put his hands in his pockets.

"Y'know, when they first told me… about Mina," here he paused and swallowed, trying to reign in his emotions. "… It didn't really hit home. I felt… It didn't feel real." He shook his head and turned to look at Edgeworth, his face a mixture of sadness and guilt. "It's only been the past couple of days that I've really mourned her death." he raised his eyebrows, eyes pleading Edgeworth to say something. Miles shifted on his feet, thinking of something appropriately consoling to say.

"Many people experience that after the death of a loved one," he offered. "They go through a period of shock; the funeral tends to make the finality of it all truly hit home."

Albert nodded and turned back to face the crowd not fully convinced. Cassandra looked up from her work rearranging the h'orderves on a tray to exchange a small smile with Albert. She quickly returned her attention to the food platter. Albert sighed again, but this time it indicated the end of their conversation. He turned to Edgeworth, extending his hand he said: "I hope you find whoever did that to Mina." His expression hardened to one of determination.

Miles shook his hand. "You can count on it, Mr. van Hale," he replied. Albert gave him a half smile and a nod before crossing the room to Cassandra. As Miles observed his journey, one of the waiters walked by and offered him a glass of champagne; he accepted (it was lunchtime after all and he was quite thirsty). He took a sip as he contemplated his conversation with Albert. The man he had talked to then was markedly different to the one he had spoken to on Sunday.

When Miles had reassured him that he had probably gone through shock, he wasn't being 100 per cent honest. True, many people go into shock when their loved ones pass away, but they usually vehemently deny reality or become almost catatonic. Albert had displayed neither. Instead, he had held an air of nonchalance – a man who hadn't really loved his wife or didn't particularly care that she was dead. Or both. Miles narrowed his eyes and took another sip of his drink, watching Albert help Cassandra organise the wait staff into bringing out more drinks. His whole demeanour had already changed: his back straightened and a sincere smile graced his lips as he struggled to pick up four champagne glasses at once, Cassandra chuckling at his inability to do so. Miles couldn't help but think that change a little suss.

_But then again, Cassandra looked more cheerful with her work as well. Maybe it really is an effective distraction._ Miles took another sip and pursed his lips. This was another little mystery to solve: was Albert faking his nonchalance on Sunday or his sadness today? He didn't think Albert could be genuine about both.

Miles was so enraptured by his musings that he didn't see or hear Brigitte van Hale's approach. Her hand on his arm shook him from his reverie.

"If you'll follow me, I have something important to show you," she whispered quickly, risking a glance at the other guests, but no one took any notice of them. Miles nodded slowly and placed his half empty glass on a side table and the two snuck out of the room.

"I was going through Mina's things yesterday afternoon to try and organise my thoughts," she explained as she led Miles hurriedly down the main hall towards the stairs. They entered Mina's childhood bedroom and Brigitte made a beeline for one of the boxes on the king bed. Most of the things in the room had been packed away and the full-length mirror was covered in a white sheet. Brigitte opened the box and lifted out an envelope reverently. She rounded the bed and offered it to Edgeworth. "I think you'll find that useful for your investigation."

_Another letter?_ Miles carefully opened the envelope and pulled the letter out.

"It's Mina's handwriting," Brigitte announced anxiously, wringing her hands together. It read:

_I made an interesting discovery last week. I won't go into the details here, you know exactly what I am referring to. _

_To say I was shocked is an understatement. To think that sort of behaviour was going on in my own home. Disgraceful._

_I'm sure the authorities would love to know what you've been getting up to. Of course, they don't have to know if I'm properly compensated for my shock…_

The letter stopped there, unfinished.

Miles stared blankly at the paper for a moment before his brain kicked back into action again.

Another_ blackmail letter? And written by Mina, a blackmail victim herself?_ To say _Miles_ was shocked was an understatement. He looked back up at Brigitte who was nervously bitting her lip. Edgeworth's brow furrowed in confusion.

"So Mina wrote a blackmail letter even though she was being blackmailed herself?" he asked incredulously.

"It wasn't sent," Brigitte pointed out meekly. "Perhaps she received the first letter before she could send her own?" Now _that_ sounded like a logical explanation. Why hadn't Miles thought of that?

"That's true…" he examined the envelope once more. "It's unaddressed. How very unhelpful." Miles tried not to sound put out. "I don't suppose you'd have any clue who it could be for?"

Brigitte shook her head apologetically. "I have no idea what sort of 'behaviour' she's referring to; neither does Daniel."

"I see." Miles paused in thought for a moment. "Well, whoever it was for probably had the best motive for wanting her dead if they found out what she knew."

"So, you think her killer was silencing her?" Brigitte asked, eyes wide. Her lip even trembled.

"That's certainly a possibility. Can I ask you to not throw away any of her things?" he indicated to the boxes on the bed. _Those could come in handy._

"Of course, of course. I looked through everything, but I didn't anything else of relevance. You're welcome to take a look though; I may've missed something." She closed up the lid of the box she had opened and tapped a hand on it.

"Thank you. I'll have a detective come pick it up tomorrow morning if that's convenient for you." It was more of a question than a statement.

"That's fine," she confirmed. She ran a hand along the top of the box, eyes sad, mouth down turned.

"If you'll excuse me, I'll make a call to the detective now." Miles folded up the letter, put it back in the envelope and slipped it into his jacket's inner pocket.

Brigitte nodded, eyes never leaving the box. Miles hesitated for a second. Should he say anything more? Offer her his condolences? Give a comforting pat on the back? Curse his social ineptitude! After a moment of indecision, he exited the room without another word, pulling out his phone to call Gumshoe.

* * *

><p>The detective was either too busy to answer or had lost his phone (probably the latter), so Miles left a message on his voicemail asking him to pick up the boxes tomorrow.<p>

In the dinning room, plates of more substantial food had been put out on the table in the centre of the room. Edgeworth's stomach rumbled at the smell of garlic prawns and honey soy chicken. He hadn't eaten anything since early that morning, so he helped himself to a few prawns, all the while keeping the look out for a certain doctor. He had many questions for Newman and as much as he was not looking forward to it, Miles needed to know more about his thesis. He spotted the good doctor munching away on some chicken wings rather amusingly. Miles walked as inconspicuously as he could towards Newman – the doctor's reaction to him at the funeral indicated he probably didn't want to talk to the prosecutor any time soon. Or ever. Miles finished off his last prawn and slid his plate into the bin resting against the wall and closed the distance between himself and Newman.

"Dr. Newman," he announced once he was standing next to him. Newman chocked a little on his chicken wing in surprise – he hadn't seen Miles coming. Edgeworth wasn't too successful in hiding his amusement.

"Detectif Edgeworth," Newman mumbled, mouth still half full of chicken. His eyes were wide and darting about the room, no doubt looking for an escape route. Miles didn't bother to correct Newman's mistake.

"I've been meaning to talk with you," he said, trying to keep his tone casual. Newman swallowed his chicken loudly, looking very apprehensive. "I don't suppose your thesis has progressed since we last spoke?" he asked conversationally in an attempt to placate the nervous doctor.

At that, Newman squared his shoulders and his eyes danced with excitement rather than apprehension. "Oh unfortunately not, Detective Edgeworth. Haven't had much time for that sort of thing as you'd expect." He took a large bite out of another chicken wing and continued talking mouth full. "I hope 'o gep it mun before' Kwifmath," he garbled.

"Tell me doctor, what was it about again? I think I've forgotten." _And please give me the abridged version._

Newman swallowed quickly, eager to explain. "I have this theory, you see, about the development of Atroquinine within the body. Do you know what Atroquinine is, Mr. Edgeworth? It's a slow acting poison, it is. Takes about 15 minutes to attack the central…"

Miles zoned out for a minute; he'd heard this exact speech on Saturday and a little of it on Sunday.

"… What I'm working on: a cure. A cure that will –"

"And what sorts of substances would you be working with?" Miles interrupted.

Newman was unperturbed by the interruption and clutched his now empty plate tight in excitement. "Well Atroquinine, of course – "

"Why?"

"Ah, well," he was a little taken aback by the question. "I need to know all the properties of the poison to better inform my hypothesis." He looked to Edgeworth as if to ask whether the answer was sufficient. Miles nodded and made a hand gesture for him to continue. "I also work with Apomorphine and various anti-depressants – I believe they're vital in the creation of Atroquinine in the body. I haven't decided on what to test for a cure yet – once I work out definitely how this process comes about, I'll start working on a cure. And… that's about it." He looked to Miles expectantly.

"You don't deal with any other poisons apart from Atroquinine?"

Newman shook his head fervently. "Just the one."

_That can't be right. Cassandra Long told me he had all sorts of poisons in his lab._

"I was under the impression that your lab was full of many different poisons. Was I wrong?" he queried.

Newman transformed back into his skittish self. He wrung the paper plate in his hands nervously, eyes again searching for an escape. "Well, uh, I guess that's true…"

"_You guess_? It either is or it isn't – which one?" Edgeworth demanded.

Newman cast his eyes to the floor. "It is," he mumbled.

"Why?" Miles asked brusquely.

The doctor looked back up at him reluctantly and swallowed loudly. "They're a hobby of mine…?" he said meekly. Newman wasn't to confident in his response – it was probably a lie.

Edgeworth was thoroughly unconvinced, but press too hard and Newman would close up like a clam. He narrowed his eyes at the doctor. Perhaps tomorrow he'd take a look around the lab himself.

"The Atroquinine that killed Ms. van Hale was a match for the sample you gave me," he announced, tone no-nonsense.

"A match? I-I'm not going to be charged, am I?" Newman inquired nervously.

"That has yet to be determined, Dr. Newman." Edgeworth crossed his arms. "I'll be in touch." He left out the part where he was planning to visit the doctor. Warn him and he may try to cover up any secrets he had lurking in his lab.

Newman nodded jerkily and all but ran to the bin and then out the door. Miles inhaled deeply, calming his irritation. He didn't know whether Newman was guilty of something or whether he was just that naturally nervous. In either case, he'd be back tomorrow hopefully, along with Gumshoe, to examine the doctor's lab. He checked his phone: still no reply from Gumshoe. Irritated, he shoved the mobile back into his pocket.

People were flocking towards the table in the centre of the room; dessert was being served apparently. Miles moved off to the side to stay out of the chaos. On the other side of the room he saw Daniel van Hale do the same. He supposed that he should talk to the man, if only briefly – it was his daughter's funeral after all. He dodged the hungry guests and made his way over to van Hale, who was starring fixatedly on his near-empty champagne glass. He'd taken off his suit jacket sometime during the day, which only made him look very small and frail.

"Mr. van Hale?" Miles began carefully.

Disturbed from his reverie, van Hale quickly looked up at Miles. "Ah Edgeworth," he responded, voice carefully devoid of emotion. He smiled without joy and looked off to the side, eyes unfocused. "I was just remembering the time Brigitte and I took Mina to Germany for the first time. She'd never seen snow before…" he shook his head wistfully. "Sorry, you don't want to hear the miserable musings of an old man."

"No it's – "

"Mr. van Hale, long time no see!" The disrespectfully cheerful greeting came from none other than Jamie Gardiner. He approached the two with a large grin plastered on his face. Brigitte van Hale followed nervously behind him. Miles heard Daniel curse softly when he realised who had been calling out to him.

"And Mr. Prosecutor Edgeworth as well!" Gardiner exclaimed. "It's so nice to see you, gentlemen, given the circumstances." His expression dropped to mock sadness.

"What do you want, Gardiner?" van Hale growled.

"Just wanted to return these to you as I won't be needing them anymore." Gardiner offered Daniel two files, the top one labelled 'Merger 405AS'. _The Bankco/Cancorp merger._

"Couldn't you have done this some other time?" Daniel was struggling to keep his anger in check.

"Oh well, I did want to make an appearance today," Gardiner began, looking around the room. "After all, I liked the girl dearly."

"Well," Daniel started, snatching the files from Jamie, "you've made your appearance – you can leave now."

Gardiner shook his head. "Now? When things are just getting interesting? I'm afraid not!"

"_Interesting?_" Brigitte piped up from behind Gardiner.

"Yes, _interesting_. Mina wasn't just a victim of blackmail, she was a perpetrator as well." Gardiner smirked smugly and placed his hands in his pockets. "Right, Mr. Edgeworth?" he asked, raising his eyebrows.

"How did you know about that?" Daniel hissed. He was very lucky that he didn't have the tendency to raise his voice when angry; the other guests were all still going about their business, unaware of this less than friendly conversation.

In answer, Jamie turned pointedly to look at Brigitte, who shrunk back when she realised what he was doing.

"Brigitte… is this true?" Daniel asked incredulously.

She took a deep breath to calm her nerves. "I thought he might know something," she began carefully. "He _did_ know that Mina was being blackmailed…"

An uncomfortable silence descended on them. It was Edgeworth who broke it.

"_Do_ you know something?" he asked Gardiner.

Jamie shook his head. "'Fraid not. Could be someone on staff. I know a few people who've had trouble with their maids and the like." He shrugged. "Well," he said suddenly, "I best be off. Gentlemen," he turned to Brigitte, "Ma'am, it was a pleasure seeing you all again. Let's do this another time," he said, backing away, both index fingers pointing to Edgeworth and the van Hales. He turned away, chuckling.

When he was gone, Daniel walked away silently, his painfully measured movements indicating he was trying to control his anger.

"Excuse me," Brigitte said quietly and she quickly chased after her husband who had already walked out of the room.

Edgeworth exhaled deeply. _When will the drama end? It's getting a little tedious._ Many of the guests were still munching away happily on their dessert – éclairs it looked like – completely oblivious to what had just transpired.

When neither van Hale had returned after thirty minutes, he decided it was best that he go without saying goodbye – there was still much he had to do today. He said a quick goodbye to Albert and Cassandra, who were busy fussing over an espresso machine and then made his exit. He checked his phone again when he got to his car – still no message from Gumshoe, but there was a reply from Wright.

You can bring your files so I can help.

Two brains are better than one ;)

Miles didn't care to respond to that – he had more important things to do at the moment and he'd rather not deal with Wright's foolishness right now. He started the car and set off towards Criminal Affairs. He planned to get thorough background checks on everyone _including_ the staff. Find Mina's blackmail victim and he could very well find her killer.

**To be continued...**


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N:** Thank you to everyone who has read and reviewed so far. I'm super duper excited about this chapter! I hope you enjoy it as much as I do :D

* * *

><p><span>Chapter 8:<span>

By the time Miles arrived at Criminal Affairs it was late afternoon, the sky striped in orange and pink, commuters rushing to get home. He hadn't planned on staying at the wake for so long, but Jamie Gardiner's appearance had prevented a quick getaway. He did, though, feel a little guilty for leaving without saying goodbye to either van Hale.

When he entered the police station, there were people scurrying about everywhere. _They must still be preoccupied with that mass shooting._ From what he'd heard, Gool's accomplice still hadn't been apprehended and the Attorney General herself had come by in the hope of pushing the search along. Miles weaved his way through the police desks and was disappointed when he found Detective Gumshoe's desk abandoned. There were piles upon piles of papers and folders strewn across the detective's desk with more stacked on and beside his chair. Miles contemplated leaving a note for Gumshoe but thought better of it. _It would most likely be lost amongst all these files anyway._ He looked around the busy station for the bumbling detective but could not see him anywhere, though it would be hard to find _anyone_ in this chaos. As a young officer walked past, Edgeworth asked him:

"Have you seen Detective Gumshoe by any chance?"

The officer stopped in his tracks. "Dick?" He blew his dark fringe out of his eyes and looked about the room. "Haven't seen him since this morning." He paused, pursing his lips. "I think he's in a meeting. Y'know, for that mass shooting?"

"I see… Thank you." He nodded at the officer who returned the gesture and walked off in the direction of the conference rooms. He sighed wearily, there was much to do and not being able to speak with the detective was ruining his plan. _Well I'm not going to stand around waiting for him; I have more important things to do._

And so, Edgeworth left Gumshoe's desk and headed towards the back of the precinct where the stairs were located – he had a certain merry mortician to find.

* * *

><p>As predicted, Creepy Coroner was busily working in the morgue. Miles stepped into the observation room and was surprised to see the assistant, Lisa, there.<p>

"Prosecutor Edgeworth," she greeted unsmiling. "What can I do for you?" She didn't sound thrilled to see him, let alone actually _do_ anything for him. She was dressed in jeans and a grey jumper, scrubs hung up on the far wall and handbag slung over her shoulder. On her way home, then.

"Sorry for the disturbance," he began curtly. "I need to speak to the Coroner about my investigation."

She eyed him for a moment, seemingly assessing the sincerity of his words. She crossed her arms over her chest.

"I'm afraid you'll have to do that some other time. Croak's busy with the ten vics from the mass shooting on Monday."

"And I assume you're not?" he asked raising an eyebrow.

Lisa shifted on her feet and narrowed her eyes at him. "I'm not needed apparently," she replied resentfully. _Good, this sounds promising._

"So then you wouldn't mind accompanying me to investigate Dr. Newman's lab tomorrow morning would you?" he asked as politely as he could.

Lisa's eyebrows rose in interest. She stole a glance at Croak who was studiously recording notes on a clipboard. She returned her gaze to Edgeworth. "Depends," she finally answered. "What's in it for me?" Her tone and expression were devoid of emotion.

He thought carefully over his reply. Lisa was an intelligent woman; he needed a very convincing reason to win her over. He didn't know too much about her, but he had a good idea about what could persuade her. "Well, it would mean a day away from him." He inclined his head towards Creepy Coroner in the morgue. He was fairly certain she didn't care for her superior and any time working away from him would be a blessing. From what he'd seen, Lisa had already surpassed her boss in both intelligence and skill.

Lisa's lips twitched as she considered. "Well…" She smirked after a moment's pause. "I'll see you tomorrow morning then."

* * *

><p>After recruiting Lisa for his investigation, Edgeworth returned upstairs to the precinct for one last go at finding Gumshoe. He'd barely made it out of the stairwell when one very dishevelled Gumshoe almost bowled him over in his rush to enter.<p>

"Oh I'm so sorry Mr. Edgeworth, sir!" he exclaimed, holding Miles by his arms ensuring he didn't fall over.

"That's quite alright, Detective," he replied slowly, trying to keep the shock and irritation out of his voice.

"I was just on my way to find you, sir," Gumshoe explained, letting Miles go. "I heard you was looking for me," he continued as they made their way to the detective's desk.

"_Were,_ you _were_ looking for me," Miles corrected.

"Sir?" Gumshoe looked utterly dumbfounded.

Edgeworth sighed and waved a hand in dismissal. "Never mind. Where were you just now Detective?" he inquired. Gumshoe sat down at his desk and Miles on the visitor's chair opposite him.

Gumshoe scratched the back of his head sheepishly. "Heh… I was eating lunch." He tapped the empty noodle cup that sat atop a pile of files on his desk. Typical. _One day I must teach him proper eating habits._

"Did you get my message earlier today?" Miles asked.

"Uh…" The detective scrambled to find his phone amongst the mountains of paper work. When he _did_ find it, his face dropped. "Oh, the battery's dead. Sorry sir, I didn't realise –"

"That is quite alright, Detective" Miles interrupted. "I have two very important jobs for you." Gumshoe perked up at that and leant forward in his chair. "First, I need you to do a background check on everyone at the van Hale estate and I mean _everyone_. Not just the van Hales, I want you to look into their maids, butlers, cooks, gardeners and anyone else who works there."

Gumshoe quickly scribbled it all down on a scrap of paper. He looked up at Edgeworth expectantly when he was done.

"And secondly," Edgeworth continued. "You're going to go to the van Hale estate tomorrow and look through all of Ms Mina's things that her mother has assembled."

"What will I be looking for?" Gumshoe asked.

"Anything that may be of use to the investigation." He remembered that the detective was still in the dark about today's events and decided it best to enlighten him. "Brigitte van Hale found a letter indicating Mina had stumbled upon someone's dirty little secret. It looks like she was planning to blackmail that person." Gumshoe's eyes widened at that.

"You think that someone is her killer?"

_Huh. That's rather perceptive for Gumshoe. _"I do. So anything that seems out of the ordinary, make note of it, no matter how big or small." Miles stood to leave and Gumshoe followed suit. "I will be there tomorrow morning myself, but pursuing a separate road of inquiry."

"I'll see ya there, Mr. Edgeworth, sir!" Gumshoe saluted. Miles turned and began to walk towards the exit. The precinct appeared to be even busier than when he first arrived. There was barely any room for Miles walk without brushing shoulders with everyone he passed. "Oh wait sir, I almost forgot!" Gumshoe called over the cacophony of the station. Miles stopped and turned to face the detective who was weaving through the chaos with extreme difficulty. When he finally reached Miles, he handed over a manila folder. "It's the financial records for the rest of the van Hales," he explained puffing. "The ones you asked me for yesterday."

"Ah yes, thank you detective, I'd almost forgotten." Gumshoe smiled proudly. Edgeworth tried his best to give a sincere smile in return, but he didn't think he pulled it off. "I'll see you tomorrow then."

"Til then, sir!" Gumshoe saluted again and returned back to his desk.

Edgeworth looked down at the file in his hands. _Well now, this may prove to be a _very _interesting read._

* * *

><p>It took an excruciatingly long time for Edgeworth to get home; the effect of peak traffic compounded by the fact that he was anxious to read those records. It was already dark, stars twinkling in the night sky, when Miles finally made it home. He'd barely eaten all day and so he immediately set about making dinner – can't work on an empty stomach after all.<p>

He turned on the news while he turned on the stove and started to cook pasta. As he reheated the bolognaise sauce and waited for the water to boil, he poured himself a glass of red wine and sat down in front of the TV. The current story was (predictably) about the mass shooting. Ivan Gool's accomplice was still on the run after shooting at a school bus earlier this morning. Thankfully, none of the children were seriously injured. The official death count was now at thirteen (three of the injured people from the first attack had died in hospital) and an estimated twenty plus were injured. No wonder Criminal Affairs had been such as mess. Miles sneered in disgust. _Some people truly are sick. You'd have to be seriously twisted and depraved to do something like that._ He certainly would have no qualms throwing their vile arses in jail. The story ended and the next one, about the rising prices of petrol, began. Disinterested, Edgeworth returned to the kitchen to check on his dinner.

After eating quickly, he took all of the case files from the dinning table and relocated to his study. The file Gumshoe had given him earlier that evening contained the financial records of all three van Hales, Ms. Long and Dr Newman. When Miles had said he'd almost forgotten about the file, he wasn't lying. _So much has happened since then: _the interview with Gardiner, the 'lovely' talk with Daniel van Hale and Mina's funeral today_._

He flipped open the file and began reading. There was nothing suspicious about Cassandra or Albert's financials – they had remained relatively unchanged for the past half-year. Daniel and Brigitte's accounts however were basically empty. Every month, more and more money had been withdrawn to pay for company expenses. _So Gardiner had been telling the truth – van Hale was practically bankrupt._ Miles pursed his lips. _If the van Hales had no more money, why didn't they sell the estate or the guesthouse or lay off all their employees?_ He chalked it up to childish pride. _Or maybe they're not as bankrupt as they seem_, a voice in the back of his head proposed. Miles quickly dismissed the thought – since when did he indulge in conspiracy theories?

Setting aside that pointless train of thought, Edgeworth turned the page to examine Dr. Newman's records. As he read, his eyes grew wide in interest. Now _this_ was intriguing. According to the records, Newman had been depositing $4, 000 in cash, into his bank account twice every week for the past month. Miles quickly pulled out the file on Mina's blackmail. The earliest dates of Newman's deposits coincided with the first of Mina's blackmail payments. Edgeworth smirked in victory. _I've got you now. How stupid do you think the police are? Just because you didn't deposit the full $5,000 doesn't make you seem any less suspicious. _Miles thought back to Monday when Gumshoe had looked into the PO Box: whoever had used it for the blackmail had been male, 'Mr. Incog' if Miles remembered correctly.

_Now why would Newman blackmail Mina?_ Everyone claimed that she had taken a recent interest in Newman's work; perhaps she stumbled upon something she shouldn't have. The doctor _is _extremely nervous when questioned about all those poisons he has. The blackmail could've worked to deter her from speaking out – _Tell my secret and I'll tell yours._

Of course all of this was still conjecture, just like his other theories had been. But with Newman's financial records, this scenario was more likely than the others. _Tomorrow when I search his lab, I'm sure we'll have a nice friendly chat about it._

He looked through the rest of Newman's financials but there weren't any other instances of suspicious activity. After finding nothing of interest, Miles closed the folder and examined the crime scene photos once again, as was becoming his nightly ritual. He flipped through the pictures: the full shot of Mina slumped in the chair, the side table with the wine, a close up of her hands, feet and face. He paused at the last photo: Mina's head was bowed, her hair falling over her face. After much scrutiny from nights previous, Miles had concluded that this photo was the one causing him the most grief. He could see the faint outline of her nose, lips and eyelashes through her golden hair. He flipped over to the photo where her hair had been pulled back, head pushed up. There was no difference between the two pictures. So what was wrong with the first one?

Miles rubbed his eyes tiredly; it had been a long day and he was struggling to keep his mind awake. He read through the coroner's report and the witness affidavits then re-examined the photographs. Nothing. Sighing in frustration, he placed everything back in their folders. _Looks like I'm not going to make any more progress tonight._

As he went to set his phone alarm for the next morning, Wright's text popped up on the screen un-replied to. Maybe it was from exhaustion or maybe it was because he actually liked the guy, Edgeworth found himself considering Wright's offer. In the end, he decided against it for now; things were just starting to get interesting. He quickly typed up the reply:

_I'll consider it._

_Right now that isn't feasible._

With that he set the alarm and all but collapsed into bed.

* * *

><p>Edgeworth arrived at the van Hale estate early the next morning. Gumshoe and Lisa were already there, the detective mindlessly chatting away while the forensic didn't even bother to pretend to listen. She was dressed in the usual white coroner's scrubs with the addition of a long white overcoat. At Edgeworth's arrival, she visibly relaxed, relieved that she didn't have to put up with Gumshoe any longer.<p>

"Mr. Edgeworth, sir!" Gumshoe greeted loudly. Lisa scowled at the detective and discreetly stepped further away from the man.

"Detective." He nodded and turned to Lisa. "Ms. Benson." The scowl was still on her face as she gave him an appraising look. When she was satisfied with her assessment she quirked an eyebrow. "Took you long enough," she stated derisively. Gumshoe's eyes widened but he didn't comment. Instead he cleared his throat and announced:

"The background checks aren't done yet, sir. I'll probably get them to you by the end of the day."

"Good work, detective," he replied nodding. "Shall we?" he asked Lisa, indicating they move inside.

Her face was the perfect mask of nonchalance. "We shall," she answered, before bending over to pick up her forensic kit. The trio walked up to the estate's doors and were greeted by a butler Miles had not seen before.

"Mr. and Mrs. van Hale are unable to greet you personally," he drawled. "If you require any assistance please ask for Katherine Scott." He bowed and stepped aside allowing the three into foyer. He took Lisa's coat with long bony fingers and walked briskly off west to the kitchen.

They all walked up the stairs together, Edgeworth leading the way. The house was eerily quiet this morning and all the windows and curtains were closed making the hallway dark and gloomy. After showing Gumshoe to Mina's room, Miles and Lisa made their way to the farthest end of the east wing where Newman's lab was located. They walked in silence, but it was by no means awkward or uncomfortable.

"I gather this Dr. Newman hasn't been told of our visit," Lisa surmised, breaking the silence.

"No he has not," Edgeworth replied glancing over to her. Lisa looked back, a wicked grin slowly forming on her face.

"Excellent."

* * *

><p>"Dr. Newman! How are you this morning?" Edgeworth greeted with false cordiality. He pushed his way past the still very sleepy doctor and walked towards the lab entrance.<p>

"What are you doing here?" Newman demanded, speech a little slurred. He rubbed his eyes trying to adjust to the morning light. "And so early too! It's," he glanced at his alarm clock. "_8AM_?" The poor man sounded absolutely flabbergasted. It was probably in poor taste, but Miles couldn't hold back his self-satisfied smirk. "And who are _you_?" he directed at Lisa. Lisa crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes, thoroughly unimpressed.

"This is Ms. Lisa Benson from the LA Coroner's Office. She will be conducting an extensive search of your lab," Edgeworth explained. He was enjoying this much too much.

"Whuh – why would she do that?" Newman demanded firmly. Apparently, Dr Newman uses up all his courage before he has breakfast.

Miles pulled out a document from his jacket's inner pocket and handed it to the doctor. "This is a warrant authorising the search of your room and lab."

Newman grasped the warrant tightly, the last vestiges of his courage leaving him. "What are you looking for?" he asked apprehensively.

"We're making sure everything is in tip-top shape, Mr. Newman," Lisa replied, insincere smile matching her insincere tone.

"I don't understand," Newman stated meekly. Lisa ignored him in favour of asking Edgeworth:

"May I begin?" Miles nodded as she picked up her kit and sauntered over to the lab's entrance.

"I'll explain everything to you, Dr. Newman," Miles replied as Lisa closed the door to the lab. He looked pointedly at the doctors 'Hulk' pyjamas. "But I think you might want to change first."

* * *

><p>By the time Newman re-emerged dressed in casual clothing, Miles had taken a seat across from the fireplace in the doctor's bedroom. The doctor approached Edgeworth cautiously and sat down in the other chair reluctantly when Miles gestured for him to do so. He decided to let Newman squirm for a moment; resting his chin on his hand, Miles contemplated the empty fireplace in front of him. In his peripheral vision, Newman was shifting in his chair uncomfortably, fingers fiddling with his shirt buttons, the hem of his sleeve and finally to the armrests of the chair.<p>

Newman broke the silence. "So what is the meaning of all this?" he asked anxiously. Miles crossed his legs and inclined his head towards Newman, although his eyes never really left the fireplace.

"I must remind you that this is no longer a suicide investigation – it's a homicide," he stated, bored. He finally looked over to the doctor to gauge his reaction. Newman looked like a deer in headlights. He swallowed nervously. "And since it was _your_ Atroquinine that killed Ms van Hale, you understand that we must pursue all avenues of investigation."

"So you're saying I'm a m-murder suspect?" Newman's voice quivered at the end.

"You certainly had the means and opportunity," Miles replied, not quite answering the question. There was a beat of silence as Newman took this in. "So, Dr Newman," Edgeworth began. His words startled Newman from his reverie and he tried to cover his jump by shifting in his chair. "As this is a murder investigation," Miles continued, "I'll need to know you whereabouts that night after the party split."

Newman ran a hand through his curly hair as he recollected. "Ah…" he started, sounding very sheepish even for him. His cheeks had turned a lovely hue of pink. "I, uh… spent the night with, uh, one of the, ah… one of the maids." Newman kept his eyes firmly fixed on his shoes, hands clenching his pants.

"Her name?" Edgeworth inquired indifferently. With this case, nothing seemed to surprise him any more. Dr. Newman cleared his throat uneasily.

"G-Greta. Greta Haze."

"And you were with Ms. Haze the whole time?"

Newman shifted in his chair again. _God, would he cut that out already?_

"I was," he answered meekly.

"I'll make sure to confirm that with Ms. Haze," Miles said. The unsaid threat hung in the air heavily. Newman squirmed. In the lab, Lisa was opening and then slamming closed a series of drawers. Dr. Newman turned uneasily towards the sound and then turned back, inhaling deeply.

"Is there anything el– "

"Why did Ms. Mina take an interest in your work?" Miles interrupted.

"I t-told you before, Detective Edgeworth, I don't – "

"Yes, yes, you _don't know_. Why am I having such a hard time believing that?" he questioned testily.

Newman didn't answer, face contorted in a look of sheer terror. His mouth opened and closed like a fish but the good doctor remained silent. His knuckles had turned white as he gripped the armrests of his chair for dear life. Miles rubbed the bridge of his nose in frustration. _Wonderful, just wonderful. This is _exactly_ how I wanted this interview to go._ He took a calming breath and looked back over to the terrified doctor. Newman was still sitting stupidly with his mouth wide open.

"Dr. Newman," Edgeworth started, in his most placating voice. "You must have _some_ notion of why she was observing your work."

Newman sunk lower into his chair, eyeing Miles warily. He didn't seem to be very convinced by Edgeworth's mood swing. "S-she did tell me, ah, that she was thinking of writing a novel. She was, uh… very… _enraptured_ by her crime novels as of late."

_Huh. Well, I guess that makes sense._ "She wanted to learn about poisons so she could write about them in her book?"

Newman seemed to relax at the question. "Yes, she was very keen on learning their properties. She'd often ask me things like 'how long would it take for cyanide to kill someone?' or 'how much Atroquinine would be a deadly dose?" The doctor looked stunned at mentioning Atroquinine, but Edgeworth ignored him.

"So what exactly – "

"Prosecutor Edgeworth," Lisa curtly interrupted. She was standing at the door to the lab looking slightly dishevelled. Her eyes flicked back and forth between Miles and Dr. Newman. "There's something you should see," she stated, turning back to the lab. "Oh and bring the doctor," she called over her shoulder.

Newman looked like he was about to have a panic attack. _Not on my watch._ "Let's have a look, shall we, Mr. Newman?" Miles strode towards the lab not waiting for Newman to follow.

"That's _Dr. _Newman," he replied meekly. Edgeworth didn't respond.

Lisa was standing at the farthest end of the lab. A massive shelf of files and boxes had been pushed to the side to reveal a metal safe behind.

"I was looking through some of the files here and noticed that the wall behind was a different colour to the rest of the lab," she explained. The safe was about three metres wide and two metres high and required a pass code to be entered via a keypad in order to be opened.

"Open it," Miles commanded Newman brusquely.

"I, uh, it's, uh… the safe is empty Detective," Newman stammered. He was slowly starting to inch himself backwards, closer to the door.

"I think I shall determine that for myself. Now open it," Miles responded, his tone leaving no room for argument. He narrowed his eyes as the doctor reluctantly shuffled towards the safe and entered in the pin, hands shaking.

_**Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.**_

With a click, the safe door opened. Newman stepped back as Lisa pulled the door as wide as possible. She and Edgeworth stared at the contents of the safe in disbelief.

"Ms. Benson… we're going to need a couple more forensics."

**To be continued...**


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: **Hello again! Sorry for the delay - this turned out to be a mammoth of a chapter so I've split it in two. Uni's officially done for the semester, so hopefully the next couples chapters will be up in quick succession. Thanks to everyone who has reviewed, fav'd, etc!

Chapter 9:

Lisa and Miles stood in shock as they looked inside the safe. Edgeworth's mouth went dry taking in the sight before him.

"Ms. Benson… we're going to need a couple more forensics," he finally said. Lisa nodded silently, still in too much shock to speak.

In the safe sat hundreds of clear, plastic containers. On most of the shelves, the containers held some sort of white powder that looked a lot like flour. On the shelves just above eye level the containers held a different sort of substance – white crystals similar to rock salt. However, Edgeworth knew that the substances were a lot more sinister than flour and rock salt.

From the corner of his eye he saw Dr Newman slowly inch backwards, away from the safe. Lisa must have seen him too, for she turned to face him, shock still on her face.

"Mr. Newman," she warned quietly. The doctor glanced quickly at her, sweat forming on his brow. He looked to Miles for a brief moment before he stilled completely. There was something in his eyes that Miles had seen many times before. _Oh, don't even think – _

Newman turned and bolted towards the lab's entrance, just evading Edgeworth's attempt to grab him. He was about to give chace, but Lisa reacted quicker. She sprang from her spot beside him and ran after Newman. The doctor must've been terribly slow or Lisa incredibly quick, because when Miles ran out of the lab, Newman was already caught. He was lying on his stomach, pinned to the floor by Lisa's knees on his back. The doctor moaned in pain as Lisa dug her knees in further. She took both his wrists and pulled them together behind his back, ignoring him as he cried out for mercy.

"Good work, Ms Benson," Miles said. She merely nodded in reply, breathing heavy from the chace. He strode quickly to the hallway; they'd need handcuffs to stop Newman from trying to run again.

"Detective Gumshoe!" He called from the door. A few seconds later, Gumshoe poked his head into the hallway.

"Yes, sir?"

"We require your assistance," he explained, gesturing for the detective to come.

Lisa dragged Newman across the room, the doctor mewling in pain as she did so. Miles handcuffed him to the chair he'd been sitting in only moments ago, instructing Gumshoe to keep watch. Newman rubbed his back with his free hand, eyeing Gumshoe warily. Edgeworth and Lisa went back into the lab to inspect the contents of the safe further.

"We're going to need some protection." She walked over to where her forensic kit sat on a table and flipped it open. She produced two pairs of latex gloves and medical facemasks. She handed one of each over to Miles, putting hers on as she walked back over to the safe. Pulling on her mask, she gingerly took a container from the middle shelf and placed it back next to her forensic kit. Miles felt a little stupid following Lisa back and forth like a sheep, but this wasn't his area of expertise so he'd just have to deal.

Lisa didn't even glance at him as he came to stand next to her; all her concentration was on opening the container's lid as carefully as possible. Then, she took out a mini beaker from her kit and spooned some of the white powder into it. Going back to her kit again, she grabbed a vial of clear liquid. She squeezed four drops into the beaker with the vial's dropper.

"If my suspicions are correct, the powder should turn violet any moment," she murmured through her mask. Sure enough, after about ten seconds, the mixture turned purple.

"What does that mean?" Miles asked her slowly. She stood up from her stooped position and took two steps back, motioning for Edgeworth to do the same.

"Atroquinine," she stated simply. It didn't come as a surprise, Miles had expected as much. "You should leave," she continued. "Those fumes are dangerous and I only have one pair of goggles." Her tone left no room for argument. Miles grudgingly left the lab, peeling off the gloves and mask as he went.

Newman was quivering where he sat handcuffed, eyes darting all about the room. Miles could almost smell his fear. Gumshoe looked over expectantly at Edgeworth as he approached. In the rush to incapacitate Newman and check what was in the safe, he hadn't told the detective what had happened.

"It seems Dr Newman has been storing copious amounts of Atroquinine in his lab safe," Miles explained. Newman's eyes went wide but he said nothing.

"Atroquinine? That's the same stuff that killed Willa… Willa… Ms van Hale, sir!" Gumshoe exclaimed.

"Astutely observed, Detective". He turned to Newman. "I presume that since you tried to run, Dr Newman, this isn't exactly legal."

The doctor didn't reply; he didn't even look in Edgeworth's direction. Instead he stared resolutely at the fireplace, shaking slightly.

"Hey, pal. Don't you go ignoring Mr. Edgeworth when he's talking to you," Gumshoe said angrily.

"It's quite alright, Gumshoe," Miles assured calmly. "It _is_ within his constitutional rights."

Gumshoe rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. "Right, sir."

Silence descended on the three as they waited for Lisa to finish her analysis. Five minutes later, she re-entered the room.

"Looks like the good doctor here's been busy," she remarked, tone devoid of emotion. "Atroquinine _and_ Cyanide." She tisked. "You have to be registered to produce Cyanide, Doctor." Crossing her arms, she continued. "I _know_ you're not. Care to explain?"

It seemed he didn't. Newman didn't mutter a single word, even as Gumshoe formally arrested him for drug possession or when he was shoved in the back seat of Gumshoe's police car. It was unnerving; Miles was expecting the doctor to plead incessantly for clemency – he wasn't the type who'd be so blasé about incarceration. No, if anything, Newman should be having a panic attack. Miles narrowed his eyes as he looked at the back of Newman's head through the rear window of Gumshoe's car. He was sitting perfectly still. If that didn't make Edgeworth suspicious then nothing would.

He and Gumshoe were both going to Criminal Affairs to question Newman while Lisa agreed to wait at the estate for more forensics to arrive. There were a lot of containers in that safe, so she'd need help transporting them back to her own lab in the morgue.

_Finally, it seems like I'm actually getting somewhere with this case._

* * *

><p>Miles was standing in the observation room watching Dr Newman through the one-way mirror. The doctor still hadn't uttered a single word since he'd been arrested apart from his request to call his lawyer. He sat in the interrogation room literally <em>twiddling his thumbs<em> as he waited for his lawyer to arrive. He was far too calm for Edgeworth's liking.

The door opened, making a soft _swishing_ noise and acting Chief Katic entered the room. She was wearing a grey pantsuit, curly hair tied back in a ponytail, her face an unreadable mask.

"Chief Katic," he greeted, nodding.

"Prosecutor Edgeworth," she replied curtly. "I heard you arrested a suspect in the van Hale case. Odd that it wasn't for murder." She sent him an imploring look.

"If all goes to plan, we'll be arresting him for murder soon enough." He crossed his arms and faced back towards the one-way mirror. Katic copied his stance.

"So, bring me up to speed with what's happening," she requested.

"We suspected Dr. Newman of blackmailing the victim the month leading up to her death. Upon searching his lab at the van Hale estate we found a safe full of poison. The forensics estimate that there was over 100kg of Atroquinine and Cyanide in Newman's possession," he explained, eyes never leaving Newman.

Katic raised an eyebrow. "Is it the same poison that killed the victim?"

"The forensics are running tests as we speak; we'll have the results within the hour."

Katic nodded. "Excellent work, Edgeworth."

_What, she's praising me? _Miles glanced out the window to his left. No, there were no pigs flying out there. He looked to Katic, mood dampening when he noticed her grave expression.

"Just be warned," she began, tone just as grave as her expression. "van Hale has already rung my office – he's on his way here now with his 'people'."

"I see," he said carefully, trying to keep the irritation out of his voice. That was just what he needed. Remembering his not too friendly talk with van Hale the afternoon before the funeral, Edgeworth was certain that history was about to repeat itself. Except with more lawyers. And politicians. Lovely.

"Good luck with the interrogation. Call me when you make progress."

"Yes, Chief." With that she exited the observation room. Before the door closed behind her, it swung wide open again and Detective Gumshoe came ambling in.

"Detective Gumshoe," he greeted. The detective looked as shabby as ever, wearing a dopey grin on his face. "What's that?" Miles asked, gesturing to the small book Gumshoe held in his hands.

"I found this when I was looking through Ms. van Hale's things, sir," he answered, handing the book over.

Miles flipped it open, recognising Mina's curly writing immediately. Every page was meticulously divided into four columns and multiple rows. The first column was for a date, the second a measurement in grams, the third a monetary value and the fourth a set of initials. The list went on for about a month until it ended abruptly on the 1st of June. _One month before she died._

"Do you know what it was for?" Miles asked, flipping through the pages.

"Not quite sure, sir. But it looks like she was recording some sort of exchange. Do you think it could be for that merger she was working on?"

"I don't think so." No, the merger had only began after this list – whatever it was – had ended. Miles was sure it was a lot less innocent than the business merger.

_Could Mina have been tracking some sort of black market drug ring? The grams could easily represent the amount of poison that was being exchanged and the monetary sum how much it was being sold for. If Mina had caught Newman engaging in this sort of activity that would explain both her own blackmail letter and the ones she was receiving._

Realising he'd been thinking for a long while, Miles closed the journal. "Was that all, Detective?"

"Greta Haze is in Room 4, sir, as you requested," Gumshoe replied smiling.

"Thank you, Detective."

"No problem, Mr. Edgeworth, sir!" With a salute, Gumshoe exited the observation room.

Miles took one last look at Newman: he was still sitting there twiddling his thumbs, looking as cool as a cucumber. He was infuriatingly calm.

_What have you got up your sleeve, Newman?_ Miles wondered, walking out of the observation room and heading towards Room 4.

* * *

><p>Greta Haze had not been what Miles was expecting: she had a shock of bright red hair held together by a big, blue bow and a tribal tattoo that wound around her neck. She didn't look like someone the van Hale's would employ; all the other staff were far more conservative in appearance.<p>

Edgeworth had called her down to the precinct to confirm Newman's alibi for the night of Mina's murder. Newman was looking like the most likely murder suspect at the moment, so Miles was hoping he could find a flaw in the doctor's story.

Greta was thankfully a very cooperative witness. She confirmed that she was with Newman on Saturday night. But that didn't give Newman a solid alibi. Greta had been asleep most of the night and she admitted that he could have snuck out when she was sleeping and returned without her noticing; she was a deep sleeper apparently.

The interview was cut short when Gumshoe came and informed him that Newman's lawyer had arrived. Miles had wanted to ask Greta more about the nature of her relationship with Dr Newman, so he requested that she stay at the precinct a little longer.

"Who is Newman's lawyer?" Edgeworth asked once he'd left the interview room.

"Some guy called Lars Elroy," Gumshoe replied shrugging. That name didn't sound familiar to Miles either.

The two walked in silence until they reached the interrogation room.

"Good luck, sir!" Gumshoe announced. He held the door open and let Edgeworth inside.

Dr Newman and his lawyer were in a deep conversation that stopped abruptly as Miles entered the room.

"Prosecutor Edgeworth," Lars Elroy greeted, standing and offering his hand.

"Mr. Elroy." Miles took his hand for a brief shake. Elroy towered over Edgeworth, his dark skin glistening atop his bald head. They sat down opposite each other at the table, Elroy clicking open his briefcase, Miles flipping open his file.

"Dr. Newman, I trust you're being treated fairly," Miles enquired.

Newman answered with a curt nod, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. His face was blank, but his eyes shone with a hint of anxiety and fear.

Miles reached over to the left side of the table where the recording device sat and clicked it on.

"Just a couple questions before we get started," Edgeworth began, tone disinterested. "Do you understand that anything you say will be recorded?" Miles began filling out the procedural form as he spoke. In his periphery, he saw Newman nod in understanding. "Please answer out loud, Doctor," Miles requested, not bothering to glance up from his paper work.

"Yes, I understand," Newman stated meekly.

"And you understand that anything you say can be used as evidence against you in a court of law?"

"I do."

Miles looked up from the form and placed his pen down. Elroy was busy writing notes on a notepad and Newman was wringing his hands together nervously.

"Right. Let's begin." Elroy stopped his writing and leant back in his chair so that both Newman and Edgeworth were in his direct line of sight.

"Dr Newman," Miles began. "This morning, the 4th of July, the LA Coroner's Office conducted a search of your lab at the van Hale estate in Willoughby. Can you confirm that the materials within that lab belonged to you?"

"Yes," Newman answered quickly. Elroy gave him a reproachful look.

"Only answer when I tell you to," he warned Newman. The doctor swallowed loudly and nodded hesitantly. Elroy motioned for Edgeworth to continue his interview.

"And is it true that you manufacture various substances in your lab?" Miles asked.

Newman took a breath to answer but Elroy put his arm in front of the doctor to keep him from speaking.

"Where are you going with this, Mr. Edgeworth?" he asked with narrowed eyes.

Miles twirled his fountain pen in one hand considering how much he should reveal right now.

"Before we discuss what was found during the search of the lab, I must know who uses the lab and for what purpose," he explained taking the safest course of action.

Elroy eyed him suspiciously but placed his hand back in his lap, finding no fault with Edgeworth's reasoning.

Taking that as his cue, Miles continued. "I'll ask again: is it true that you manufacture various substances in your lab?"

Newman glanced nervously over to Elroy who nodded, allowing him to answer the question.

"Yes, that is correct," he replied softly.

"Does anyone else use the lab for experimental or manufacturing purposes?" Miles inquired, scribbling down some notes in his file.

"No… just me," Newman answered. Miles looked up from his file making direct eye contact with the doctor.

"You are currently undertaking a PhD in Biomedical Science through the LA Online University, correct?"

"Correct," Newman confirmed.

Miles looked back down at his notes. They were open to the page that detailed Newman's thesis.

"Could you please explain to me what this entails?"

"But I've already told you twice!" Newman protested weakly. He received a light slap on the arm from Elroy.

"Mike…" the lawyer warned.

"The Cliffs Notes version, please," Miles requested. _Now let's see if there are any discrepancies. _

"Well," Newman began reluctantly. "Under certain rare conditions, the poison Atroquinine may be produced within the body. I was working on a way to counteract this process and possibly a cure for Atroquinine itself. There is none, you see."

No contradictions there. Miles wasn't too fazed about that; his line of questioning would advance with or without a contradiction.

"So obviously you would be working with Atroquinine during this process."

"Yes, I need a better understanding of its properties for my research to be meaningful," he confirmed after a brief glance at Elroy.

"May I ask where this is going?" Elroy interjected, tone _demanding_ not asking.

Miles looked between the two, weighing up his options. _It's probably best to start this interview in earnest now. _

"You claim that everything in that lab is yours and you are the only one who uses the lab. During the search, over 100kg of illicit substances were found in the safe." He paused here to gauge Newman's reaction. The doctor looked a little more frightened than he had before, but otherwise didn't react. This information shouldn't have come as a surprise to him; he would've had to know it was there all along.

"Atroquinine and Cyanide – two very dangerous poisons. Were you manufacturing them?" Miles asked.

Elroy leant forward. "Don't answer that, Newman," he barked menacingly. Newman sunk a little lower in his chair, but he obeyed.

Miles made a note in his file and continued. "Were you selling these poisons?"

"Don't answer that," Elroy repeated.

"Buying them?"

Elroy glowered at Newman and shook his head ever so slightly. Newman stayed silent.

Miles restrained himself from letting out a frustrated sigh. Interviews with defence attorneys always went like this: don't answer this, don't answer that; they sure appreciated their right to silence. It just made Edgeworth's job a lot harder. How where you supposed to put a criminal behind bars when they didn't _say_ anything? Evidence was all well and good, but there were times (like this) where it wasn't enough.

"Okay then, Dr. Newman. If you didn't _make_ the drugs and you didn't _buy_ them, then why were they in your safe?" Miles asked, barely keeping the anger out of his tone.

"My client claims he was unaware of the contents of the safe," Elroy droned as he reclined back in his chair.

"Unaware?" Edgeworth questioned incredulously. _What a load of –_

"He _did_ tell you that he thought the safe empty before he opened it," Elroy interrupted his thoughts. A sinister smile played at the lawyers lips, satisfied with how the interview was going.

It _was_ true: Newman _had_ claimed that the safe was empty. _But he was too nervous for someone ignorant to what the safe contained. _

"I find that difficult to believe," Miles replied. "Newman has already stated that he was the only person to use the lab and everything in it belonged to him. How could he _not_ know what was in there?" Miles glanced back and forth between the two men in front of him through narrowed eyes. This was exactly the reason why he hated lawyers. Well, _defence_ lawyers.

Newman, having realised that the interrogation was going his way, had visibly relaxed. His eyes no longer shone with fear or anxiety. Was that _satisfaction_ Miles could see?

Elroy nodded and made a 'go on' gesture to Newman.

_Ugh, what _now_?_

"As according to safety regulations, I have to share the safe pass code with a number of trusted people so that they can open it in emergencies," the doctor explained with the hint of a smirk.

"And who knew the pass code?" Miles inquired, already having a good idea of Newman's answer.

"Brigitte and Daniel van Hale, Albert and dear Willamijna," he replied.

Edgeworth wrote each down in his file, thoroughly annoyed by this development. He inhaled deeply in order to calm his emotions; it would not bode well for him to lose control.

"So, you're claiming that the poisons were placed in the safe by one of those people?"

Newman nodded. "I am."

"You realise you're accusing your employers of drug possession?" he questioned, slightly put off by the fact that Newman looked so calm.

"It is an unfortunate situation, Prosecutor," Lars Elroy answered. "But my client only states the truth."

Miles wasn't satisfied with the answer, but it was pointless trying to argue this point – there were more important things he needed to focus on.

"Why would one of them use your lab for storage?" This was the crux of the matter. "Considering so many people had access to the safe, it wouldn't be a very secure location."

Elroy sighed heavily, as if he thought Miles stupid. "My client cannot account for the actions of others. And with respect to the security 'dilemma', they could easily pin the blame on my client," he answered in a bored tone. "And look," he continued, outstretching his arms, "it seems to be working."

Miles stayed silent. The twitch of his right eye betrayed his otherwise neutral demeanour. Elroy's smirk grew even wider. Edgeworth flipped to a new page in the file and sat back in his chair.

"Let's talk about your alibi for the night of Willamijna's murder."

"Uh-uh, Mr. Edgeworth. My client was arrested on drug charges. If you have nothing else to ask him regarding that, then I believe this interview is over," Elroy said in a tone of finality. He made to stand up.

"Sit back down, Mr. Elroy," Miles demanded, none too kindly. Elroy raised his brows questioningly.

"I suspect that the poisons and Ms. van Hale's death are related." Elroy sat down reluctantly, eyes cold and hard.

"I've spoken to Ms. Haze, Dr. Newman. It seems you don't have a very strong alibi. She admits that you could have snuck out while she was asleep."

Elroy scoffed. "This is ludicrous. What possible reason could he have for killing her?" Newman stayed conspicuously silent, opting to stare at the table rather than defend himself.

"Ms. van Hale had been spending a lot of time with the doctor leading up to her death. She could have stumbled upon something Newman didn't want her to see." He couldn't reveal the journal just yet; he needed to verify exactly what Mina had been recording before he could use it as evidence.

Elroy crossed his arms, unhappy at Edgeworth's explanation. "That is pure conjecture," he spat. "As I said before, Dr Newman was unaware of the poisons in his safe. _They were not his._" Elroy was practically seething.

This interrogation was not going as Edgeworth had planned. As he was struggling to come up with something meaningful to say, his phone vibrated in his pocket. He took it out and glanced at the caller ID: Lisa Benson.

"I'm afraid we're going to have to cut this short, gentlemen," Miles said, standing up. Elroy followed. "I'm going to hold you in custody until we can speak again, Dr Newman." He clicked off the recording device, taking it with him as he strode out of the interrogation room.

* * *

><p>The morgue was just as unsettling as ever. Thankfully, Creepy Coroner was nowhere in sight and so the morgue was completely silent. However, Miles couldn't decide whether he preferred the eerie silence to Croak's maniacal laughter echoing down the hall.<p>

He had agreed to meet Lisa in her office to discuss her analysis of the safe poisons. The door was open, so Miles knocked on the doorframe before entering. Lisa was slumped over some files, comparing the notes of one page to another. When she heard him knock, Lisa looked up from her work.

"Mr. Edgeworth," she greeted. "Please, sit." She gestured to the chair in front of her desk.

"You've finished analysing all the containers?" he asked.

"I have," she confirmed with the hint of a smile. Miles couldn't deny that he was impressed – she'd only been working for just over two hours.

She shuffled the myriad files on her desk, opening one up and sliding it over to Miles. There were a number of graphs and tables that made no sense to him. Lisa leant over, pointing to one table with her pen.

"The Atroquinine that we found in the safe," she pointed to the column 'Sample A', "is a match for what Newman gave us to test," she pointed to the column 'Sample B'. "And of course that means that it was also for a match for that which killed Ms. van Hale," she indicated to column 'X'.

"Does that mean that the same person manufactured all three samples?" Miles asked. He was feeling a bit out of his depth.

"Not necessarily," Lisa answered, sounding a little disappointed. "It just means that they were made in exactly the same way." At Edgeworth's puzzled look, she explained further. "Atroquinine can be made in a number of different ways: using morphine and mercury or morphine and arsenic are the main methods. Of course there are tens of other ingredients and _how much_ of each ingredient is used gives the final product a unique… barcode, if you like."

That was a lot for Miles to take in. He nodded uncertainly; he got the gist of what she was saying, but didn't understand completely. Noticing this, she tried to simplify it for him.

"Just think of it like… baking a chocolate cake: they may all taste slightly different or use different ingredients, but they're still all chocolate cakes."

"So… the chocolate cake is like Atroquinine in this case?" he asked tentatively.

"Exactly!" she exclaimed, proud of herself for explaining clearly and possibly proud of Miles for understanding.

"So all of this," he gestured to the file before him, "just proves that the same… _recipe_ was used to make the Atroquinine?"

"Yes. I'm sorry I can't say more than that." She frowned apologetically.

"Do you perchance know the likelihood that two different people could use the same method to produce Atroquinine?" he asked. _The lower it is, the easier it will be to pin this on Newman._

Lisa leant forward and flipped the file to the next page.

"I _did_ look into it…" She trailed off, looking for the relevant paragraph upside down. When she found it, she tapped her pen next to it for emphasis. "But unfortunately, it seems this method is the most commonly used one."

_Damn, things can never be easy, can they?_

She smiled ruefully at Edgeworth's frustrated expression. "They like to make your job difficult for you, don't they?" she chuckled quietly.

Miles stifled a laugh, but couldn't keep the amusement off his face. When Lisa had sobered, she opened a second file and slid it over to Miles.

"What you might like to hear is the Cyanide that was found in the safe is a match for the sample we took from Newman's lab." Miles could somewhat read the complicated file now and recognised the table that indicated these results.

"I don't know about you," she continued, "but I don't believe in coincidences like that."

"No, I don't either," he agreed. This development was very suspicious indeed. Newman could argue against one count of coincidence easily enough, but two? Not so much. He scanned the rest of the file briefly; not much of it made sense to him. In the end, he relented and decided to ask Lisa, though he hated feeling so helpless.

"How much of each poison was in the safe _exactly_?"

"110kg of Atroquinine and 38kg of Cyanide," she answered in her usual nonchalant tone.

Edgeworth's eyes widened in surprise. "What could he possibly do with all of that?"

Lisa shrugged. "Selling it on the black market seems like the best bet. Unless he was preparing for chemical warfare…" she posed with the quirk of an eyebrow. If he didn't know Lisa as well as he did, Miles would've thought her serious about the chemical warfare, her tone completely devoid of humour.

_Hmm… the black market? Actually, I think she could be onto something there…_

"Ms. Benson, could you take a look at this?" He pulled out Mina's journal from his jacket's inner pocket and handed it over. At her quizzical look, he explained further.

"This was found amongst Ms. van Hale's things. It looks like she was recording some sort of exchange. Do you think she could've been tracking black market deals?"

Lisa flipped through the book studying the list intently. She pursed her lips as she turned the next page.

"If you'll give me five minutes." She stood up. "I just need to quickly check something." She strode briskly out of her office with the journal in the direction of the morgue's lab.

After a short while Lisa came back, glancing between Mina's journal and a piece of paper, brow furrowed in concentration. She sat back down, taking a moment to organise her thoughts.

"I checked the police database on known black market dealings," she began, tapping the paper she'd brought with her. "It's _possible_ van Hale had been tracking poison sales. If this," she pointed to the grams column, "represents how much Atroquinine was being sold, than these sums would be a fair representation of what it would cost on the black market. And the instances where this doesn't correlate for Atroquinine, it seems to correlate for Cyanide." She looked up at Miles, face blank.

He took the journal and the print out Lisa had made, comparing the two for a moment. _If Lisa's right, then Newman's a very, _very_ rich man._

"I don't suppose you found any money hidden anywhere during your search?"

Lisa shook her head. "We didn't. But forensics are now doing a more thorough investigation of his lab and bedroom – they may find something then."

That didn't sound too promising. Even with Lisa's discovery, Elroy could probably come up with an alternative theory to explain what Mina had been recording. Without the money, it would be difficult to prove Newman guilty of selling to the black market.

"If I may propose a theory," Lisa said, interrupting Edgeworth's thoughts. "I'd be on the look out for at least one or two accomplices. If the journal is correct, this operation is too big for Newman to do on his own."

Miles considered this. It was a very valid point. Mina had only been watching his actions for a month, but he would've needed to be selling for far longer than that in order to have been operating as regularly as he had. The journal showed that this was no novice Miles was dealing with.

_The accomplice angle may actually work in my favour. There could be a lot of loose ends if other people were involved. _

"Newman claims he didn't put the drugs in the safe. If he had an accomplice, then he may technically be telling the truth."

Lisa pursed her lips, mulling it over. She seemed unsatisfied with Edgeworth's supposition.

"True… but the only prints I found on the safe were Newman's on the keypad. Obviously those were made when you asked him to open the safe. _And_ there were no prints on any of the containers." She shrugged.

Miles let out a weary sigh. "Well, if that's all you have…" He stood up and went to pick up the journal. Lisa stopped him.

"If you'd let me copy some of the pages, I can compare the exchanges to the undercover police database; see if we can get any hits…"

Miles agreed and waited patiently while Lisa scanned the journal onto her computer. Once she was done, she gave the journal back. They exchanged curt goodbyes and Miles left in search of Detective Gumshoe.

* * *

><p>The precinct was far less chaotic than it had been the past few days. There were less police running around frantically and most were calming sitting at their desks, filling out paper work or researching on their computer. Gumshoe was sifting through the mountains of files on his desk when Edgeworth found him.<p>

"Detective Gumshoe," he announced curtly in greeting. Gumshoe jumped in surprise, knocking one of the stacks to the floor.

"Mr. Edgeworth, sir!" he exclaimed. "Don't sneak up on a guy like that!" He made no move to pick up the mess beside his desk.

"I just spoke with Ms. Lisa Benson, the forensic," Miles stated. "The poison we found in the safe matches the samples from Newman's lab."

Gumshoe smiled broadly. "That's great news, sir! Do you want me to go charge 'im now?" he asked, standing up.

"Not just yet. I still need to investigate further," Miles replied, tone bored. The detective visibly deflated at that – he enjoyed arresting people far too much for Edgeworth's liking; it had caused him much grief in the past.

"Oh!" Gumshoe exclaimed, perking up again. "The background checks for everyone at van Hale's estate just came back." He rifled through the chaos on his desk, picking out a folder, which had supposedly just been delivered, from the bottom of the pile. "We gotta hit, sir!"

Miles flicked the file open, smirking when he recognised the person in the mug shot.

"I need to go see someone right now, but there's something I'd like you to do in the meantime, Detective…"

**To be continued...**


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: **Sorry for such the long delay - I had a small case of writer's block :/ Hope you enjoy the next chapter and thank you to those who constantly review!

* * *

><p><span>Chapter 10:<span>

Greta Haze was waiting impatiently in Room 4 when Edgeworth arrived. She scowled as he entered and sat down.

"How long do I have to stay here for?" she asked agitatedly. Her arms crossed defiantly and a vein in her forehead bulged.

Miles simply smiled and opened the file Gumshoe had given him earlier.

"Hopefully not much longer, Ms. Wesson," he finally replied.

Greta's expression went from annoyance to a mixture of shock and horror at his words.

"Wesson? You mean _Haze…_" she said unsteadily. Not much of a liar she was.

He slid the file over to her in explanation. In the mug shot her hair had been blonde and cropped very short, but there was no mistaking the garish tattoo that snaked its way around her neck.

Her eyes flitted over the page, taking in everything they had on her. She pushed the file back over to Miles when she was done, arms crossing again for comfort rather than in defiance.

Greta Haze was actually Stasia Wesson, convicted drug smuggler. She'd been caught in 2006 in the midst of a black market drug ring and had been a suspect in a Borginian Cocoon smuggling operation in 2008. There was a warrant out for her arrest for her involvement in a crystal meth lab in 2010, which hadn't been carried out. Wesson had been off the radar ever since.

"Now, Ms. Wesson, I'd like to continue where we left off a couple hours ago."

Stasia eyed him warily, but said nothing.

Miles sighed. "If you cooperate with me now, we may be able to negotiate some sort of deal for your outstanding arrest warrant," he offered. Her silence didn't break.

"How about you tell me the nature of your relationship with Dr. Newman?" he asked.

"How about you take your questions and shove 'em where the sun don't shine," she spat none too politely.

"Were you his partner in the Atroquinine/Cyanide operation?" he queried, ignoring her outburst.

She looked down her nose at him and sneered.

_I was wrong to think her a cooperative witness before. _If interviewing her wasn't going to yield any answers, perhaps threatening her would.

"We have forensics searching your room as we speak," he began in a warning tone. "If you choose to answer my questions _before_ we find anything incriminating, the DA may consider going easy on you."

Stasia Wesson smiled nastily. "No thanks," she answered.

Miles had now had enough of all this fruitless interrogation; first with Newman and now with Wesson – it was getting on his nerves. No more Mr. Nice Cop (Lawyer) routine.

He flipped Wesson's file shut and pushed it to the side angrily, leaning forward on his forearms. Stasia's only reaction was to raise her eyebrows.

"Do you have any idea what the penalty would be if you were charged for the crystal meth lab from 2010?" he demanded with a lowered voice. The angry whisper always seemed to unnerve suspects.

There was a hint of trepidation in her eyes, but Stasia shrugged nonchalantly anyway.

"25 years," he stated, answering his own question.

"_25 years?_"

"Imprisonment, yes." Now _that_ got her attention. Wesson scratched the edge of the table, weighing up her options.

"If I talk… do I get immunity?" she inquired cautiously.

"Depends on what you have to say," Miles replied, feeling victorious. Finally, something was going his way.

Stasia took a steadying breath. "Alright…" she began softly. She fidgeted nervously as she thought over what she was going to say.

And then there was a frantic knock on the door.

"Not now!" Miles called menacingly. The knocking continued. "I said: _not –"_

"Chief Katic needs to see you urgently, sir!" the muffled voice explained quickly.

_Damnit! Why does this always happen to me?_ If Katic needed to see him so desperately to interrupt his interrogation it must have been for something important.

He rose reluctantly from his seat. "We're not done here," he told Stasia warningly. She nodded jerkily in reply, her puffy red hair bouncing up and down. With that, Miles stormed out of the room. If there was smoke coming out of his ears, he wouldn't be surprised.

* * *

><p>He stalked down the hallway towards the Chief of Police's office. He didn't bother to knock before entering.<p>

In the office, the Chief was sitting at his desk, rubbing his temples wearily; Katic was pacing in front of the bookshelf and the Attorney General and Daniel van Hale were seated opposite the Chief.

_Wonderful._ He scolded himself for failing to realise that Katic wouldn't call him for anything else. She _had _warned him that van Hale had been coming, though he'd hoped their meeting wouldn't have been so soon. van Hale hadn't brought any of his 'people' with him (or so it seemed) and for that, Miles was grateful.

"Prosecutor Edgeworth," Katic announced as she stopped her pacing. Her face was blank but her inability to stand still showed how anxious she was to get this over and done with. The Chief looked up from his desk and both the Attorney General and van Hale turned and stood.

"Edgeworth," the Attorney General greeted, extending her hand. She was a very short woman, only just over 5 feet, but she exuded a very intimidating aura. The AG was wearing a mauve pantsuit, blonde hair tied in a severe bun. Her expression had been friendly enough, but her brown eyes were cold and hard.

He took her hand briefly. "Mrs. Green, to what do I owe the pleasure?" he inquired politely. Green's eyes flicked over to van Hale.

"We have a very important matter to discuss," she answered vaguely. She walked over to stand beside the Chief of Police, but Miles did not move to sit in her seat. van Hale sat down silently at his left and Katic moved closer to the desk at his right. The acting Chief Prosecutor did not look happy to be here. _You and me both, Katic._

The Chief of Police cleared his throat. "I've called this meeting because Mr. van Hale has expressed his concern about the arrest of Dr. Michael Newman," he explained hesitantly. It looked like the Chief of Police didn't want to be here either. van Hale shifted in his seat, but Miles ignored him. Neither acknowledged the other's presence.

"I assure Mr. van Hale that every procedure has been followed to the letter during Newman's arrest," Edgeworth stated, his eyes never leaving Attorney General Green's.

"It's _obvious_ he has been set up," van Hale spoke for the first time.

"Mr. van Hale, there is sufficient evidence to suggest – "

"That 'evidence' is all very circumstantial, Mr. Edgeworth," Green interrupted. The Chief of Police kept his eyes firmly fixed on his desk. He pressed his lips tightly together to avoid speaking, after all Green's comments weren't just damaging to Edgeworth, but too his own people as well. Katic sighed in frustration.

"With all do respect, Mrs. Green, the evidence easily supports Newman's arrest and is, as Edgeworth was about to say, sufficient for prosecution," Kate Katic explained, tone devoid of emotion.

AG Green glared lividly at Katic. It looked like she was extremely offended that someone would dare disagree with her. The Police Chief sunk further into his chair and looked back between the two women meekly. Miles silently thanked his boss for supporting him. Said boss stood her ground and glared right back at the AG.

"_Acting_ Chief Katic…" Green began venomously. "You are not in a position to question me. _Do you understand_?"

Katic didn't answer for a moment and it seemed like the situation was about to escalate. Then her shoulders slumped slightly in resignation.

"Of course, my mistake," she finally answered, though Miles could tell she did not agree. However, Katic had to tred carefully – she was only _acting_ Chief, her position was precarious enough without aby conflict with the Attorney General herself.

"Now that we've cleared that up…" Green turned to Edgeworth again. "I'd like you to release Dr. Newman and drop all charges."

_She can't be serious! _"But, Mrs. Green – "

"I know that sounded like a request, but it really wasn't," she interrupted icily.

Miles thought carefully about what he was going to say; one wrong move could cost him not only that case, but his job as well. Green wasn't known for her clemency.

"New evidence from this morning suggests that Newman was consorting with a known drug dealer," he began slowly.

"Again circumstantial," Green stated dismissively. _How could she know that? She hasn't had the time to read Greta's file. _Something was definitely up.

He struggled to form an adequate protest, but the Attorney General cut him off.

"Thank you for alerting us to this grave miscarriage of justice, Mr. van Hale," she said apologetically.

"That's quite alright," van Hale replied, smirking ever so slightly. Daniel's eyes flickered over to Miles and he didn't miss the satisfied gleam.

After terse parting words were exchanged, Edgeworth stormed out of the office, Chief Katic not far behind. She fell into step next to him, body language indicating that she was absolutely livid.

"Something's not right here," she said, shaking her head. Miles was thinking the exact same thing. "We've held people on far less than what we've got on Newman and that's never been a problem before." Her voice rose in anger.

"van Hale _does_ have a lot of connections," Miles offered, though he could not dispute the truth of her statement.

Katic stopped abruptly, narrowing her eyes. "You find evidence to hold this son of a bitch a while longer, you got that Edgeworth?" She jabbed a finger in his direction.

"You don't want me to release him?" He found himself respecting this woman even more.

Katic laughed, but there was no humour in the sound. "The way I see it, if van Hale and Green want Newman out so badly, then they must be hiding something. And I'm not going to let them get away with it, _are you_?" she challenged.

"Of course not, Chief," he answered with a smirk. Challenge accepted.

* * *

><p>Miles stood impatiently for twenty minutes at Gumshoe's desk, waiting for the detective to return from his assigned task. Of course, Gumshoe had left his phone on top of his mountains of paperwork, so he couldn't even be contacted for an update. Just as Miles was considering leaving, the bumbling detective burst through the precinct's doors excitedly.<p>

As Gumshoe approached, Edgeworth held up the detective's phone accusingly. Gumshoe's excited expression fell a little and he let out a nervous laugh.

"Uh, sorry Mr. Edgeworth, sir. I'm always leaving my phone behind somewhere," the detective apologised.

Miles didn't comment and tossed the phone to Gumshoe, who fumbled with it, but didn't drop it.

"How did it go?" Miles asked, impatient for information.

Gumshoe beamed at him. "We got 'im, sir!" he exclaimed. He passed Miles a slip of paper. It was a signed affidavit from the post office confirming that Dr. Newman was 'Mr. Incog'. Edgeworth had asked Gumshoe to show Newman's picture to the post office employees in the hope that one of them would recognise him as the man who used the PO Box for Mina's blackmail money. He hadn't thought the doctor to be so sloppy.

"Excellent work, Detective. Anything else?"

"Well, Forensics is still searching Newman's room as we speak, but they've already found large amounts of chemicals used to make Atroquinine and Cyanide."

"Can you be a little more specific?" Miles inquired.

"I think they said… mercury and morphine?" Gumshoe seemed uncertain at first, but then he nodded his head vigorously. "Yeah, yeah. Mercury and morphine. Way too much to be just for research."

"Thank you, Gumshoe. Just one more thing: call Forensics and have them search Greta Haze's room as well."

"Of course, Mr. Edgeworth, sir!" Gumshoe replied enthusiastically. He sat behind his desk quickly and began punching in a phone number on his mobile.

"What are you going to do now, sir?" Gumshoe asked before he pressed 'call'.

"I'm going to find out what Greta knows about Newman," he responded.

"Uh… I don't know if that's a good idea, sir," Gumshoe said reluctantly. "She's lawyered up."

Miles closed his eyes, exercising all his self-control not to lose it then and there. When he finally calmed down, he opened his eyes and looked down on a meek Gumshoe.

"How did you know about that before I did? You only just got here," he asked, perplexed.

"Oh, I heard someone mention it on my way in," the Detective explained.

_Of course he did._ "I see… well, carry on Detective," he said curtly. Not waiting for a response, he turned towards the interrogation rooms. Greta wasn't going to say anything now that she had a lawyer. Miles could enact her arrest warrant, but that wouldn't help his case one bit. Now that he had proof Newman was Mina's blackmailer, there was only one thing he could do.

* * *

><p>Elroy looked just as unimpressed as he had this morning. Miles smiled pleasantly enough, though the men in front of him did not return the gesture. Elroy glared and Newman fidgeted with his cufflinks.<p>

Miles clicked on the recording device and opened up his file.

"I've spoken with Ms. Haze again. What she said has led me back to _you_, Dr. Newman."

The doctor looked up nervously at the sound of his name, ceasing his fidgeting. In fact he had ceased to move anything at all, staring at Edgeworth in disbelief.

_He knows. He knows who she really is and how bad this will look for him._

"Spit it out, Prosecutor, I don't have all day," Lars Elroy said impatiently. Beside him, Newman still sat frozen.

"Greta Haze, the woman you've been having an affair with, is actually Stasia Wesson, convicted of drug smuggling in '06 and suspected many times since." Miles slid the file over and Elroy grabbed it, eyes scanning the page hungrily. When he was done, he dropped the file back on the table.

"What does this have to do with the charges against my client?" Elroy asked, bored.

"Newman was consorting with a known drug smuggler and then over 100kg of illicit substances are found in his safe. I don't think that's a coincidence."

"One moment," Elroy said. He leant over to his client, whispering something in his ear. Newman whispered in response, eyes continually darting back to Edgeworth.

"My client claims he had no knowledge of Ms. Haze's criminal past," Elroy deadpanned.

_Without Wesson's statement, I have no proof that Newman knew she was a criminal. For all I know, he was as much in the dark as I had been until this morning. I just hope for the case's sake that he wasn't. _

Pushing that line of questioning would just lead to further animosity between Elroy and himself. Moving on then.

"After I spoke with Ms. Wesson, I had my detective go to the post office."

Newman's eyes widened in realisation, but Elroy just rolled his.

"And what does that have to do with anything, Mr. Edgeworth?" Elroy questioned exasperatedly.

"Dr. Newman, we spoke about Mina's blackmail earlier today, but I didn't have any proof to pin you as the culprit. But that was then. Now…" He flipped through the file and pulled out the affidavit. "… I do," he finished, passing the paper to Elroy.

"What is this?" Lars Elroy demanded.

"Witness affidavit. Mina's blackmailer used a PO Box to receive their money. We traced that PO Box to a Mr. Incog. Of course, that was just a pseudonym and the man paid in cash. Detective Gumshoe showed your client's picture to the employees at the post office and three of them confirmed that Dr. Newman had opened that box."

Elroy's eyes grew wide – this was the first time he hadn't been able to cut down Edgeworth's argument. To his right, Newman was sweating bullets.

Miles stood and gathered up his file. "Though we are dropping all drug charges" _for now_ "you are formally charged with the blackmail of Ms. Willamijna van Hale."

Elroy said nothing, though there wasn't much to say anyway.

"An arresting officer will be with you shortly to guide you through the necessary paperwork and escort you to your cell."

Newman made to protest, but Elroy silenced him with his arm.

"We shall speak soon enough," Newman's lawyer promised.

"I'm sure we will, Mr. Elroy." Miles took the recording device and let the door _swish_ closed behind him.

* * *

><p>The search of Newman's room hadn't yielded anything incriminating, but Wesson's room was another matter. The forensics had ripped open her mattress after observing some unusual lumps while looking under it. Instead of the mattress being filled with foam or latex, it was full of money wrapped in plastic. All up, there was about two million dollars – not nearly all the drug money if Mina's journal was correct, but a significant portion nonetheless.<p>

Many of the bills had been tagged as stolen from a number of bank robberies across the country. Criminal Affairs' Gangs Unit had quickly concluded that Wesson would only have obtained the money from the black market.

After that, things had gone as planned. Stasia Wesson, realising that she was going away for a very long time, decided that she wouldn't be going alone. She'd confessed to dealing Atroquinine and Cyanide on the black market, implicating Newman as a key member of the operation. Wesson and Newman had worked together for months to manufacture the drugs, without raising any suspicion, and Wesson had used her connections to sell to the mafia and street dealers alike.

Stasia had directed police forensics to her records book, which detailed all the transactions over the past six months. Lisa Benson compared and confirmed that Willamijna had indeed been recording Newman and Wesson's activities in her journal.

There were a lot of things that didn't add up yet: there was far too little money in Stasia's mattress (though she claimed that was all of it), Wesson had been totally oblivious to Mina's observation and Newman hadn't told her about blackmailing Mina. There were far too many pieces of this puzzle missing for Edgeworth to get a coherent picture of what happened.

After their initial confessions, Newman and Wesson had been unwilling to cooperate any further, refusing to explain how they met, their motives for the operation and who their buyers were.

Miles didn't have much time to think about how this would affect his _murder_ investigation (neither had admitted to killing Mina) – when he arrived back at his office, Hannah had received a flurry of calls. Chief Katic, Attorney General Green, Brigitte van Hale, Lars Elroy and even Phoenix Wright had requested his company.

Edgeworth collapsed into his desk chair. He hadn't eaten or drunk since breakfast this morning, nor had he the chance to sit and rest for a moment. Outside, Hannah's phone rang again. Miles sighed. He couldn't put off any of those calls for much longer.

Needing some sort of sustenance, he began to make some tea. As he waited for the water to boil, he pondered just whom he should see first.

**To be continued...**


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11:

"… _What's your opinion of blackmail?" Mina's eyes darted warily down the hall, suspicious of anyone eavesdropping. It was the first time she had been serious all evening and Miles was at a loss for words, the topic of discussion so out of the blue. _

"_What do you mean by 'opinion'?" Of course, it was morally reprehensible, but that was common sense, right? Mina's eyes shone with fear as she made direct eye contact with him. She sidled closer as if to tell him a secret. _

"Well_… it's quite low isn't it?" she asked in a whisper. "I mean, what kind of person would do such a thing?" _

_At that moment she looked like the little girl he'd once known. But… she'd almost always been so confident and self-assured, never letting anyone see her weaknesses. Although he hadn't seen her in many years, her behaviour was so uncharacteristic he knew that something must be seriously wrong._

_Taking this into account, he carefully replied: "Ms Mina, you're not being blackmailed are you?"_

_There hadn't been much time to gauge her reaction – Gertrude had interrupted – but he could still see the slight widening of her eyes and perhaps a hint of relief and hope shining through. _

"Mr. Edgeworth?"

"Hmm?" The sound of his secretary's voice shook him from his musings. Hannah was standing awkwardly at his door, half in half out his office. She was worrying her bottom lip between her teeth as she waited for a more eloquent reply.

"Can I help you, Hannah?" he asked after draining the remnants of his teacup.

"Uh, it's just, you have a lot of phone calls waiting for you and I was w-wondering if you wanted to start returning them," she stammered nervously.

_Not really_, he'd wanted to say, but that was unprofessional. And Miles Edgeworth, ever the professional, replied instead: "Did they leave any instructions for me?"

Hannah reluctantly edged her way further into his office, carrying a slip of paper with her, which she held onto for dear life. She cleared her throat before responding.

"Chief Katic would like you to call her back," she read off the card. "Attorney General Green wants you to meet her in her office ASAP; Brigitte van Hale would like you to go out to her estate; Mr. Elroy asked to see you down at Criminal Affairs; and Mr. Wright also would like you to call him back." Hannah took a deep breath – it wasn't often she spoke so much to Miles – and looked at him expectantly.

"Right…" He rubbed his forehead wearily. The day was almost done; there was no way he was going to be able to do all that now. No, he would need to prioritise. Certainly Wright could wait – he'd only want to arrange lunch (or whatever he'd asked for) and Miles simply didn't have the _time_. Elroy and Green could wait too – he'd had enough of them for one day and it would satisfy him to no end to let them squirm and wait on _him_.

"Get Chief Katic on the line," he announced. He owed it to her for supporting him earlier this morning and he didn't want to break the tenuous relationship they'd built through their mutual suspicion of Green and van Hale.

"Also, tell Mrs. van Hale I'll visit her this evening if it's convenient."

"Yes, Mr. Edgeworth," Hannah replied, scurrying to her desk.

Miles set aside his teacup and waited for Hannah to connect him to Chief Katic.

"Katic is on line 2, sir," she announced through the intercom.

"Thank you, Hannah." He picked up the office phone and connected to line 2. "Chief Katic?"

"Edgeworth, thanks for calling me back," she replied, her tone giving nothing away.

"Not a problem. What can I do for you, Chief?"

There was a pause on the line and Miles was beginning to think the call had disconnected when he heard some rustling on the other end.

"I just wanted to thank you for holding Dr. Newman. That was good thinking working from the blackmail angle," she finally said. Katic didn't sound completely happy; the two didn't share a very amiable relationship and she was obviously finding it hard to praise Edgeworth.

"I was just doing my job," he replied, mentally face palming himself for the lame response. Save for earlier this morning, Katic had never commended Miles for his work – one could say he was in a little bit of shock.

"Yes and I appreciate you doing it so well," Katic said, the words sounding less forced. "I know you're not on the best terms with the Chief of Police," she continued, "so I'm going to ask him to assign some more officers to the case on your behalf."

"That's really not nec – "

"Of course it is, Edgeworth," she cut him off firmly. "van Hale and Green had been so adamant that Newman was innocent… I have a feeling they knew exactly what the doctor had been doing."

"Chief, you don't mean to accuse –"

"I do. Like I said before, something's not right here and I think there's more to this case than meets the eye." Her tone left no room for argument. "Of course, I trust you to keep this to yourself, Edgeworth."

"I wouldn't think of doing otherwise," he answered.

"Good. I want you to keep me up to date on any new developments in the case, be they to the drug smuggling or the murder," Katic commanded.

"Of course, Chief," he replied, getting a little frustrated by the practically one-sided conversation. As he went to put down the phone, Katic spoke once more.

"Oh and Edgeworth? Don't think I've forgotten about punishing you for the fight with the Chief of Police."

He heard the dial tone before he could respond. Scowling, he put the phone down and ran his hands through his hair. His back and shoulders were tense and there was a mild throbbing in his forehead.

It was already 4pm and he was hoping that Brigitte van Hale wasn't available to meet this evening so he could go home and rest.

_But_, if he was being truly honest with himself, if he went home now he'd only end up slumped over case files until midnight anyway. Sighing, he turned on the intercom.

"Did Mrs. van Hale agree to the meeting this evening?" he asked Hannah.

"She did, sir. Anytime is convenient for her," his secretary answered.

"Thank you, Hannah. That will be all for today – you can go home."

"Thank you, Mr. Edgeworth!" she exclaimed. The only time she ever spoke with any emotion (other than fear) was when she was able to go home. Miles didn't want to think about what that said about _him_.

Shaking his head, he tidied up his office before packing up and heading off to meet Brigitte van Hale.

* * *

><p>Detective Gumshoe's crappy police car already sat in front of the van Hale estate as Edgeworth pulled up in the drive way. Gumshoe was going around getting official alibis from all the employees at the estate seeing as the previous officers hadn't bothered when the case had been a suicide. Miles wanted to confirm Cassandra Long and Albert van Hale's alibis as well, but they hadn't been back at the estate since the wake.<p>

Katherine the maid greeted him at the front door.

"Good evening, Mr. Edgeworth, sir," she welcomed, hands held together in front of her apron.

"Ms Katherine," he returned with a slight bow of his head.

She blushed and turned her eyes to the floor. "Mrs. van Hale is waiting for you on the patio," she said shyly. Katherine turned and led Edgeworth down the hall, passed the room where Mina died and out to the back of the estate.

The patio overlooked a wide lawn surrounded by cherry blossoms. There was a small pond to the far left where a few ducks were milling about. The sun was beginning to set straight ahead. How picturesque.

Brigitte was seated at an outdoor dinning set, sunhat on to protect her from the late afternoon sun.

"Mr. Edgeworth, ma'am," Katherine announced.

"Thank you, dear," Brigitte replied, setting down the book she had been reading. "Miles, please sit." She indicated to the chair opposite her.

He sat down and waited for Brigitte to speak as she took off her hat and smoothed down her hair.

"I hear you caught Willamijna's blackmailer," she began delicately.

"We did," Miles confirmed with a nod.

"Who was it?" she asked innocently.

_She doesn't know._ He tried to think of a way to tell her gently, but decided it was easier to say it outright.

"Your daughter was being blackmailed by Dr. Newman."

"_Michael_?" she asked incredulously. "I don't believe it…" she said softly. "Why on earth would he do that?" she inquired, confusion all over her face.

_My, your husband has certainly been keeping you in the dark, hasn't he, Brigitte?_

"Dr. Newman was making poisons to sell on the black market. He'd been working in partnership with one of your employees, Ms Greta Haze. Mina somehow found out and so Newman blackmailed her to keep her silent."

"So that blackmail letter I found amongst Mina's things… that was for Michael?"

"It looks to be that way," he answered.

"I see…" she trailed off, taking in everything she'd just learnt. It was obvious that any mention of Mina still pained Brigitte; her features were pinched in an attempt to not cry. They sat in silence for a while as the sky turned orange and pink. The ducks quacked softly in the distance and the leaves of the trees rustled in the light breeze.

It was Edgeworth who broke the silence. "Mrs. van Hale, I'd like to ask you a few questions pertaining to the investigation if you don't mind."

"No, no, not at all," she replied, shaking herself from her reverie. "Ask away," she insisted with a sad smile. Miles was reluctant to start, but he didn't have the time to come back later.

"Mrs. van Hale… _Brigitte_," he corrected himself. "When the police were initially investigating, it was under the assumption that the case was a suicide." At Brigitte's perplexed look he continued. "As a result, they didn't record any official alibis…"

"You'd like to know where I was when Mina…?" she asked, catching on.

"Yes please."

"It was at 3am, yes?"

Miles nodded in confirmation.

"I was in bed, asleep. Daniel was with me."

"And so you didn't hear anything suspicious or out of place?"

Brigitte shook her head.

"Thank you, that's all I needed to know." He made to stand, but Brigitte stopped him with a question.

"Are you finished with Mina's things? I'd like to put them away properly."

_Gumshoe's already gone through them; I doubt there'd be anything of value to the case that he didn't find._

"I think that will be fine," he finally answered.

"Thank you, Miles." Brigitte smiled her first genuinely happy smile of the evening.

"If that's all…"

"Oh yes, I'm sorry to keep you. You must be so busy," Brigitte said quickly. "I'll walk you out."

"Oh no, that's really not – "

"Please, it's no trouble. I have nothing else to do anyway," she explained with a reassuring pat on his arm.

They walked in companionable silence down the main hall of the estate.

_If that's all she needed to ask me, then why did she want to see me in person? Surely a phone call would've sufficed. _

As he pondered this further, that conclusion seemed a little unfair.

_She's probably very lonely with Mina gone, Albert and Cassandra living outside the estate and Daniel holed up in his office all the time…_

And then he remembered something important.

"There _is_ one another thing I'd like to ask you," he said as they stopped at the front door.

"Of course, what is it?" Brigitte inquired.

"Daniel told me that you're bankrupt," he began. Brigitte's face dropped at that.

_Lovely work there, Miles. Your social ineptitude is truly stunning._

"He shouldn't go telling people that…" she muttered.

"It was pertinent to the business merger with Gardiner," he explained hastily. The last thing Miles wanted was the van Hales fighting because of something he said.

"I see." Brigitte still wasn't too happy. "Go on."

"Pardon me if this is rude, but why haven't you sold off any property if money is so low?"

She didn't seem too bothered by the question.

"I'm not 'in the know' about the money side of things, but Daniel was very confident that the merger would go through."

"And if it didn't?"

"He mentioned something about a back up plan. A, uh… new business venture, I think he said." It seemed Daniel kept all sorts of things from his wife.

"I haven't heard anything about it since," she continued. "I guess it didn't work out," she offered, shrugging.

"Do you remember when this was?"

"Ahh… a little over six months ago now," she replied.

"Huh," he responded intelligently. He was beginning to connect a few dots.

Brigitte's eyebrows knitted in suspicion. "Why do you ask?"

"Oh I was just concerned. Thought you may need my help," he lied smoothly.

Brigitte's expression changed to one of amusement. "There's a – how do you say it? – _Fat chance_ of that happening. Daniel is much too prideful to ask for help, especially from someone as young as yourself."

She chuckled and Miles joined her.

"Well, it was nice speaking with you again, Mrs. van Hale," he said once their laughter had died down.

"Yes, yes, you must come down again once the case is closed," she insisted.

Brigitte stood at the door, waving Miles off as he drove passed. Gumshoe's car was absent from the driveway – he must have finished early.

Once he was out of her sight, Edgeworth's smile dropped and his mind began working at one hundred miles an hour.

_Daniel hadn't mentioned anything about a new business venture when we spoke, especially one he'd been considering so long ago. _

Perhaps Brigitte had been right – this mysterious deal hadn't worked out – but Miles couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to it than that.

_She said that Daniel had mentioned it over six months ago… Newman and Wesson's drug operation begun a little after that… could there be a connection?_

After all, there'd been a lot of holes in Newman and Wesson's story: too little money and no explanation of how they met.

_van Hale _had_ been very determined to get Newman out of those drug charges and it would explain why he hadn't sold any property to prevent bankruptcy…_

Edgeworth tried not to think about it much after that; there was absolutely no solid evidence pointing to van Hale's involvement in the operation. However much he tried, the thought plagued him the rest of the drive home.

* * *

><p>By the time he arrived home, it was already 6 O'clock. Although early by Edgeworth's usual standards, he'd had a ridiculously early start. Searching Newman's lab and finding the poison safe felt like days ago, not a mere 10 hours earlier. And after everything that had happened since – interrogating Newman, interviewing Greta, talking with Lisa Benson, Newman and Greta again, Attorney General Green, Newman and Greta <em>many more times<em>, the phone call with Katic, meeting Brigitte van hale – Miles was certainly ready to call it a day.

He began his evening rituals, though his mind was far away. He couldn't stop thinking about the possibility that van Hale was in cahoots with Newman and Wesson. It was all circumstantial of course, but where there's smoke, there's usually fire.

Miles ate his dinner in silence, not really tasting the curry he'd made. Daniel van Hale had done so much for his career; without his sponsorship, Miles would never have had the opportunity to study European judicial systems. He felt incredibly guilty for thinking this man, of whom he owed considerably, to be involved in a black market drug operation.

He pushed those thoughts away (but not without difficulty) and focused instead on Mina's murder. Everyone who knew the details of the case was certain that Newman was the killer. He had the best motive – perhaps Mina had a change of heart and decided to rat Newman out. He could've easily killed her to ensure her silence. After all, he had the best access to the Atroquinine in his lab.

All of this was very compelling, yet there was not a single shred of evidence implicating him in the murder. It had already been made clear that it was easy to steal the Atroquinine from Newman's lab. Mina had known where the key to the poisons cupboard was, why not the others? If they all knew the pass code to the safe, surely they had some idea of where Newman stored his chemicals as well.

Besides, Newman had pleaded the fifth after briefly admitting to the drug operation. There was no way Elroy was going to let him confess to murder also.

The only way Edgeworth could crack this case was by finding some _solid_ evidence. And that meant one thing: back to the files.

He carefully went through the witness affidavits and evidence report, taking precise notes as he did. After almost two hours of fruitless reading and note taking, he opened the file that was the bane of his existence: the coroner's report. He flicked through the photos, scanning every centimetre and finding nothing.

He rubbed his sore eyes wearily. It was nearing 9pm and we was no nearer to solving this case than he had been 3 hours ago. He dropped the crime scene photos on the table in frustration; that awful feeling in the pit of his stomach was back – he was missing something. He just _knew_ that whatever that something was, it was obvious and laughably so. When he eventually worked out what it was (and he _would _find out), he would have to let Gumshoe slap him in the face for being such an idiot.

He skimmed through the final autopsy report, but it held little interest for him. The only difference between it and the preliminary autopsy report was the post-mortem bruises found on Mina's upper arms. There wasn't any explanation for why they were there – obviously Croak hadn't been too concerned about their existence. Still… it was an oddity and Miles needed any possible lead he could get. He made a note to ask Lisa Benson about them tomorrow.

Edgeworth reviewed all the notes he'd made that evening despondently. They were exactly the same as the ones he'd made the night before and the night before that – he had found nothing new.

"Ugh…" he dropped his forehead on the table in despair. He'd learnt so much today, but none of it had really helped in solving Mina's murder.

He pushed himself up from his chair and scooped up those damn photos, shoving them roughly into their folder.

It was only just 10, but Miles could barely think clearly anymore. Perhaps if he actually got a proper night's sleep, he'd identify that issue with the photographs.

He chuckled ruefully despite himself. One could dream.

* * *

><p><em>He was walking down the main hall of the van Hale estate. All the colour from the wallpaper and paintings were bleeding down the walls and pooling on the floor, leaving an eerie monochrome in its wake. The portraits of van Hales past stared at him with dead eyes as he walked down the hall. <em>

_It was deathly silent, save for the squelching of his shoes on the saturated carpet. _

"_Brigitte?" he called, his breath misting in front of him. The call echoed down the hall, but no one answered. He continued walking ahead towards the end of the hall he could not yet see. _

_It had grown immensely cold and he wrapped his arms around his torso, pulling his suit jacket closed. The paintings began to crack as a thin layer of frost enveloped them. _

_He began walking faster, wary of the paintings as they continued to frost over. His breath came quicker now, fogging his sight so much he had to stop and calm down. His eyes darted around nervously as he felt the temperature drop even further. Beside him, a vase of flowers greyed and wilted, petals crumbling to the floor. _

"_Brigitte?" he called again, softer this time with less conviction. He squeezed his eyes shut and focused on controlling his shivering. He opened his eyes in frustration when he couldn't, spotting a dark figure at the end of the hall. _

"_Hello?" The figure didn't answer. In fact, it looked as though it was walking _away_ from him. _

_He strode quickly after it, but the figure continued to get smaller and smaller. He had to break out into a run just to keep up. _

_A light appeared at the end of the hall and the figure continued to move towards it. _

Don't go into the light, _he wanted to shout, but his lips had been frozen shut. _

_The light flickered as the figure was engulfed by it. He picked up his pace when he noticed the light fading. _

_As he reached it, the rest of the hall lit up as well. To his dismay, the cold remained. _

_At the end of the hall was a room that he recognised instantly – the room where Mina van Hale died. _

_As he stepped cautiously into the room, a ghastly smell washed over him. It was all he could do to not be sick. It reminded him of the morgue: refrigerated flesh and decay. _

_In the centre of the room, the figure stood with shoulders hunched and head bowed forward. _

_He recognised the figure immediately as a woman, her red dress clinging oddly to her lithe frame and long blonde hair hanging limply. _

_He still couldn't speak, so he took a step forward, cracking the ice that had frozen to the floor. _

_The figure heard the sound and slowly raised her head. He began to inch backwards, regretting his decision to move in the first place. _

_The woman began to turn slowly, not just her head, but also her whole body. The movement looked stiff and completely unnatural. _

_As she faced him, her hair fell away from her face and his eyes widened in surprise._

Mina!

_Mina stared at him unblinkingly. Where he was shivering uncontrollably from the cold, Mina stood perfectly still, scrunching and flexing her bare toes on the ice. _

_Her irises had paled to a disconcerting shade of grey, almost blending in with the white of her eyeballs. Her cheeks drooped and her once youthful skin sagged, sallow with death. _

_She didn't speak – her lips were purple and swollen. She continued to stare at him with those cold eyes. Then she jerkily turned back around and began walking towards the chair in the centre of the room. _

The chair she died in!

_Mina struggled to move fluidly; she looked like a zombie or even a puppet on strings. She sat down awkwardly in the chair, a book materialising in her lap. After a pointed look at him, which he couldn't decipher, Mina collapsed forward, a mirror image of the crime scene photo. _

_A wind began to howl outside and the windows shook with the force of it. Soon, they cracked and shattered, shards of glass flying inwards. A large piece of glass flew straight towards him and having no time to move, hit him square on the forehead. He could feel blood pouring down his face, blinding him where it fell into his eyes._

_And then everything went black._


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: **Thanks again to everyone that's reviewed, alerted, etc. Uni's started up again so updates may become a little more sporadic :/

* * *

><p><span>Chapter 12:<span>

Edgeworth awoke with a start. His heart was beating a little faster than usual, but he was otherwise unaffected by the dream (after all, nightmares weren't exactly a rare occurrence for him).

He sat up groggily, wiping the sleep from his eyes. The morning light was streaming through the gaps in the blinds. His alarm clock read _6.58am_. He hadn't had a peaceful sleep as he'd hoped; nonetheless, he felt refreshed enough and ready to start the day.

He went about his morning routine, determinedly not thinking about the dream.

It was on his way to Criminal Affairs, sitting in peak traffic, that he finally gave it some thought.

A few of the details were a bit hazy (as they usually are), but he distinctly remembered Mina's cold unblinking stare and the awkward way she'd walked to the chair.

_Like a puppet on strings,_ he mused. He turned into Criminal Affairs' private parking lot.

'_No dream is entirely a dream'_ he recalled reading once. _Could my subconscious be trying to tell me something?_

After a moment's thought, he shook his head and scoffed at himself.

_What a ludicrous notion – dreams meaning something. Dreams don't _mean_ anything; they're nonsensical! _After all, hadn't he told himself that for fifteen years? (It was the only thing that truly kept him sane all that time).

Shaking his head again to stop _that_ train of thought, Miles hopped out of his car and headed towards the morgue. First order of business: ask about those bruises.

* * *

><p>The hallway leading to the morgue was as quiet as ever; no maniacal laughing seemed to suggest that Creepy Coroner wasn't in yet.<p>

_Please let that be the case._

The Coroner's Office itself was conspicuously quiet. Stanley Croak's personal office was empty and Miles rejoiced silently.

Lisa Benson was sitting at her desk, already studiously at work on her computer. Miles knocked once on the doorframe before stepping inside.

"Mr. Edgeworth," she greeted, standing up behind her desk. She offered her hand and Miles accepted.

"Ms. Benson, how are you this morning?" he asked.

"Not too bad," she answered. "I hear you got Newman on those drug charges." She smirked victoriously.

"Yes, he and his accomplice both admitted to the whole thing," he explained, returning the smirk slightly.

"What can I do for you?" she asked, sitting down and gesturing for Edgeworth to do the same.

"I have a query regarding the Coroner's Report for Willamijna van Hale…" he said distractedly, flipping through the report to find the relevant page.

"Oh," Lisa responded, sounding surprised.

When he found the page Miles offered it to her.

"Not about the drug smuggling?" she asked, still genuinely perplexed. She took the file and skimmed the page, eyes darting quickly side-to-side.

"It's about the post-mortem bruises on her upper arms. The file doesn't explain their significance…" he clarified, trailing off at the end.

"Right, right," she responded inattentively. Lisa pursed her lips and furrowed her brow as she read. "Hold on a sec…" she murmured. Putting down the folder, she turned to her computer. Her brow furrowed further as she read the digital file.

When she was done, she reclined back in her chair, frowning in confusion.

"I didn't perform the autopsy personally," she began, turning her attention back to Edgeworth. "Croak did. So I can't say exactly what the bruising might mean. Since we don't have the body anymore, I'll need to ask Croak about it when he gets back."

He grimaced at the thought of having to deal with the creepy coroner again. "And when will that be?"

Lisa shrugged. "Not sure. He's currently testifying at the Coronial Inquest for those mass shootings. I don't know when he'll be back," she deadpanned. Lisa like mentioning her boss just as little as Miles did.

"I see. Well, call me when he gets back," he instructed.

Lisa gave an unenthusiastic salute and then Miles was off to his second task for that day.

* * *

><p>The precinct wasn't as chaotic as usual and the air was thick with anxiety.<p>

_Lisa _had_ mentioned something about the coronial inquest for the mass shootings today… Everyone must be on edge awaiting the results. _

There was an odd sort of hush about the place; no one seemed to be aware of his presence, too wrapped up in their own little worlds to notice. Edgeworth found he liked the precinct this way, even though most would find the atmosphere unsettling.

He headed, as usual, towards Detective Gumshoe's desk, stopping abruptly when he realised the detective was not alone. And speaking with the man Miles had been trying so hard to avoid: Phoenix Wright.

Before he could think of moving out of sight and coming back later, Wright turned his head in Edgeworth's direction, as if sensing his presence, and spotted him. A smile spread across his stupid face in recognition.

"Edgeworth!" he called out with an enthusiastic wave. Gumshoe turned and gave a wave of his own.

"Mr. Edgeworth, sir!" Gumshoe exclaimed in greeting.

Grimacing, Miles reluctantly approached the pair and schooled his expression into one of unimpressed aloofness.

"Wright," he greeted, none too politely. He knew the defence attorney had recognised his tone, but it didn't seem to bother him. "What are you doing here?" he asked with suspicion. _Not stalking me I hope._

"I'm working on a case," he answered cheerfully. "Gumshoe here was just helping me with some of the finer details."

"Was he now?" Edgeworth questioned, eyes narrowing at said detective.

At least Gumshoe had the good graces to look incredibly sheepish. He rubbed the back of his head and let out an embarrassed laugh. He went to speak, but Edgeworth interrupted.

"I honestly don't want to know." He turned to Wright. The man had an annoyingly determined look about him. _You're not going to leave easily, are you Wright?_ Edgeworth sighed. "So, what case are you working on, Wright?" he inquired, if only to distract the defence attorney from voicing the question he so desperately wanted to ask.

"Ah, the mass shootings," he replied, looking a little disappointed with the conversation topic.

Miles merely raised an eyebrow in reply, none too surprised at Wright's answer. Phoenix ran a nervous hand through his ridiculous hair, clearly uncomfortable with Edgeworth's reaction.

"My client's innocent – she was in the wrong place at the wrong time!" Wright quickly assured.

"… Right."

"Yes?" Wright asked, puzzled.

"No, I meant – you know what? Forget it." He waved a hand in dismissal and made to leave; he'd talk to Gumshoe later. Phoenix Wright could be so _insufferable_ some times.

"Wait, Edgeworth!" Phoenix exclaimed, stopping Miles from making a quick getaway. He rolled his eyes and turned back to the defence attorney. The look Phoenix gave him told Miles exactly what the spiky haired man wanted to ask.

"No," Miles deadpanned as Wright opened his mouth.

"Aw, come on, Edgeworth," Wright whined. "We haven't talked in _ages._"

"We're talking now," Miles pointed out. In the corner of his eye, he saw Gumshoe not so conspicuously shuffle over to the coffee machine, giving the two lawyers some privacy.

Phoenix looked unimpressed with his answer.

"No, over lunch or coffee," Wright clarified. "I can help you with your case," he offered, staring at Miles with the most pathetic set of puppy dog eyes he'd ever seen and _no_ _they did not work on him one bit. _

Miles crossed his arms. "If I agree, will you stop pestering me?"

A stupidly hopeful smile spread across Wright's face. "Sure! When are you free? I have – "

"You can speak with my secretary to arrange something," Miles interrupted.

"Ok great! I'll see you then." Could nothing sour that man's mood?

Phoenix stood awkwardly for a moment, expecting Miles to say some sort of goodbye. When he didn't, Wright headed reluctantly towards the Records Room.

"Good luck with your case, Edgeworth," he said in parting, before walking out of sight.

Edgeworth sighed heavily. He hoped Hannah had the good sense to plan coffee/lunch/whatever-he'd-just-agreed to as far in the future as possible. Miles wasn't one to have distractions during a case.

Gumshoe cleared his throat behind him, back from his trip to the coffee machine. The detective held out a paper cup and Miles accepted it. The coffee here, like all police stations, was terrible, but he needed a caffeine fix.

"I finished recording everyone's alibi, sir," Gumshoe stated proudly.

"Good work, Detective. Anything suspicious?"

Gumshoe pouted. "'Fraid not, sir. Seems everybody has a solid alibi – most of the staff go home for the night an' the rest are all accounted for."

Miles told himself he grimaced at the new info and not the taste of the awful coffee.

"Oh, but I didn't get Miss Long's or Albert van Hale's alibi 'cause they weren't at the estate," Gumshoe explained, mood dampening somewhat.

"I see. Well, if you could please do so today…" He trailed off when he saw Gumshoe's reaction.

The detective rubbed the back of his head, frowning and refused to make eye contact. He looked extremely uncomfortable.

_Oh god, what _now?

"What is it, Detective?" he asked, irked.

Gumshoe cleared his throat nervously. "Ah, well you see, sir…"

"Yes…?" Miles prompted.

"Well, Attorney General Green got me reassigned to the Ivan Gool case. She said I was even gonna get a bonus for all my hard work!" the detective perked up.

Edgeworth narrowed his eyes in suspicion. "And so she took you off my case then?"

Gumshoe looked glum. "Yeah, sorry, sir."

"When was this?"

"Umm… yesterday afternoon, just when I was about to finish my shift," Gumshoe replied, bemused.

_That conniving…_

"I see. Well good luck with your investigation."

"You too, Mr. Edgeworth, sir!" Gumshoe replied, seemingly already over his sadness.

Gumshoe handed him the records of all the alibis with haste, claiming he had an important meeting to attend, which had started ten minutes ago. He rushed to the conference room leaving Miles standing at his desk awkwardly.

_That Attorney General Green is more calculating than I gave her credit for. She must have heard about Newman's arrest yesterday afternoon. _

He huffed in annoyance. It was one thing to have the Attorney General herself dislike you, another for her to actively meddle with your investigation.

_If she could reassign Gumshoe, then any officers Katic manages to get for me will probably be reassigned as well. _

Miles scowled. As if this case wasn't hard enough, now the AG was making passive-aggressive threats towards him.

Deciding it was best if he didn't dwell on these thoughts, Edgeworth flipped open the file Gumshoe had given him. It was a fairly long report detailing every van Hale estate employee's alibi. Daniel and Brigitte van Hale's alibis were also included at the end of the document; they both vouched for each other's whereabouts. He skimmed through some of the maids' and butlers' stories, but there was nothing of interest.

Miles snapped the folder closed and realised he was still standing in front of Gumshoe's desk, even though the detective had left a good ten minutes ago. One of the newest recruits was giving him an odd look from his desk on the other side of the room. Miles eyed him until the young officer looked away nervously. Edgeworth smirked to himself in triumph; it was always beneficial to instill some fear into the green police officers.

At that moment, his mobile started ringing. He pulled it out of his jacket pocket, the caller ID reading _Hannah Fright_.

"Yes, Hannah?" he asked in greeting.

"Mr. Edgeworth," Hannah began anxiously. "Attorney General Green called. She wants to see you in her office immediately."

"Tell her to wait – I'm busy." Although not entirely true, it was better than saying he didn't want to waste his time talking to her.

Hannah made a worried hum. "I don't think you have a choice here, sir. She was _very_ insistent."

Miles rubbed his forehead in frustration. He'd rather jump off a cliff, to be perfectly honest.

"Okay, fine," he grit out. It was almost physically painful to give in. "Tell her I'll be there at…" He checked his watch. "Quarter to ten."

"Alright, Mr. Edgeworth."

Miles disconnected the call and strode towards the parking lot.

_This morning is going wonderfully_, he thought miserably.

* * *

><p>The Attorney General's Department was located five minutes from the DA Offices. The building was a squat, concrete monstrosity, typical of most government-owned buildings. Inside, the floor was carpeted in moss green and almost every other surface (barring the ceiling) was covered in dark wooden panelling.<p>

Green's office was located on the sixth floor. Her secretary, a stout woman in her fifties, greeted him upon arrival.

"Attorney General Green will see you now," she drawled, barely looking up from her computer screen.

Miles steeled himself before knocking on the large wooden door.

"Enter," came the foreboding reply.

He schooled his features into a blank mask and opened the door.

AG Green was sitting at her desk, writing furiously. She was wearing a similar suit to yesterday, though this one was a slightly darker purple. The décor of her office was identical to the rest of the building.

"Sit," she commanded, not looking up from her work. Miles obeyed silently and waited for Green to speak again.

A few minutes passed, the only noise being Green's pen scrawling on paper. Miles knew this tactic – let the opposition stew in silence to put them on edge. This blatant attempt at intimidation wouldn't work on him, however, especially since he'd used it on Green yesterday.

Finally, she finished her writing, clicking her pen and resting it to the side. She folded her hands in front of her before looking at Edgeworth for the first time. She pursed her lips, displeased to observe that her method of intimidation hadn't unsettled him.

"Let's talk about Dr. Newman," she said simply.

Miles quirked an eyebrow, but didn't speak. Green narrowed her eyes.

"I though I had made it clear yesterday morning that you were to drop the drug charges against Newman."

"You did," Miles agreed. "In fact, I dropped the drug charges just like you asked," he declared coldly.

Green's eye twitched in irritation. Good, he was getting on her nerves. "Then why is Dr. Newman in remand awaiting his committal hearing for drug manufacture and possession?" Her voice was dripping with venom.

Edgeworth's expression remained neutral as he answered.

"I _did_ drop the drug charges. _However,_ before I did so, Detective Gumshoe found indisputable evidence pinning Dr. Newman as Mina van Hale's blackmailer."

Green seethed silently for a moment. Miles was enjoying this more than he'd anticipated.

"I'll ask again: why is Dr. Newman awaiting trial for drug manufacture?" she hissed.

Edgeworth crossed his arms. "After charging Newman with blackmail, his lover, Stasia Wesson, confessed to running the drug operation, incriminating Newman as her accomplice."

"And you _believed _a convicted drug smuggler?" she questioned incredulously.

"Newman confessed as well," he deadpanned.

AG Green's eyes widen in shock. She stared at Miles like this for a moment before schooling her features into a scowl.

"You couldn't leave well enough alone, could you, Mr. Edgeworth?"

Miles raised his eyebrows in mock-innocence. "I was just pursuing the truth," he explained with a hand on his heart.

_Interesting. Green still isn't happy about Newman's arrest when the doctor _admitted himself_ that he was guilty… I smell corruption. _

Green was clearly unimpressed by Edgeworth's show.

She leant forward menacingly. "You _deliberately disobeyed_ my orders, Prosecutor Edgeworth," she began slowly. "I don't appreciate that."

"_I_ don't appreciate being told how to do my job, especially when I'm told to overlook a miscarriage of justice," he countered.

The Attorney General looked at him in disbelief.

"_A miscarriage of justice?"_ she whispered. "No," she continued more firmly. "You don't get to make that call when your _superior's superior_ specifically commands you to do something."

Miles went to object, but Green held out a hand to silence him.

"Mr. Edgeworth, I can't have prosecutors I don't trust working on such important cases. And your actions yesterday indicate that I can't trust _you_."

There was nothing Miles could say that wouldn't make the situation worse. After all, it wasn't his fault that she had trust issues.

"I'm taking you off Newman's case."

"_WHAT?_" His voice was one or two octaves higher than he would have liked.

"I'm reassigning the case to Prosecutor Winston Payne," she responded calmly. Her lips twitched minutely in satisfaction.

_Winston Payne, the _rookie_ killer, who couldn't take on an important case even if his _life_ depended on it?_

Miles let out a huff of hysterical laughter before he could stop himself. "Payne? You're reassigning the case to _Payne_? You _can't_ be serious."

"Oh I am," she assured him, now smirking outright. "You are to hand over all the relevant files by five this afternoon. Non-compliance will result in suspension from any cases you are currently working."

Green stood, indicating that the conversation was done. Edgeworth followed, almost shaking with indignation.

Scrap that prior thought that he was enjoying this conversation. This was ten times worse than yesterday and made speaking with Katic seem like a walk in the park.

"I do hope we won't meet under such circumstances again," she said in a sickly sweet tone. Miles took the statement for what it really was: a warning. Without any parting words, Miles stalked furiously out of her office, resisting the temptation to slam her office door behind him.

* * *

><p>The meeting with Green had put Miles in a foul mood. He couldn't believe the lengths Green would go to get her way.<p>

_She'll probably convince Payne to drop the charges somehow, find a technicality or breach in procedure and pin the whole thing on Stasia Wesson. And Payne will do it because his _weak, easily persuaded… _Everything I'm not. _

He walked briskly down the hall towards his office, none of his fellow prosecutors so much as looking him in the eyes. His indignation was poorly disguised and there wasn't anyone in the DA's office stupid enough to talk to Miles Edgeworth when he was angry.

_After everything the Prosecutor's Office has gone through these past years, with Damon Gant, Lana Skye, _von Karma, _you'd think Green would be _avoiding _corruption. _

Hannah rose from her seat in front of his office as we walked by.

"Oh, Mr. Edgeworth, sir, you –"

"Not now, Hannah," he interrupted curtly.

His secretary dropped back down in her seat quickly, eyes enormously wide with fright.

He wrenched open his office door and strode to his desk, tossing the alibi file down carelessly.

_Green's got to be acting out of some sort of political motivation. Isn't she up for re-election soon? And that brings us back to van Hale and his 'connections'. He must be using them to get Newman out of jail and furthering Green's career as he does so. _

"Ah, greetings, Prosecutor Edgeworth."

Miles twitched in shock at the voice. Standing off to the side in front of his bookshelf was Newman's lawyer, Lars Elroy. Because of his little temper tantrum, Miles hadn't seen the imposing man when he first walked in.

_This is what Hannah must have been warning me about._

He sighed deeply, putting on a blank mask.

"Mr. Elroy, please, take a seat," he replied calmly.

A cheeky smirk graced Elroy's lips. "I hope I didn't frighten you, Edgeworth."

"Not at all," Miles responded brusquely. Elroy was unconvinced but Miles didn't care – he had a myriad other things to worry about.

"I'm afraid I don't have much time – you'll have to make this quick."

"That's fine, I won't need long anyway. My client wishes to negotiate a deal."

"Is that so?" Miles asked, unimpressed.

"He'll give up the names of some of his customers in exchange for a lighter sentence," Elroy explained.

"Risky," Miles remarked.

"I told him this myself, yet he still wants to proceed." Elroy crossed his arms, still annoyed at his client's behaviour.

"Well, that's all very interesting," Miles began in a tone that suggested he thought it anything but, "however, I am no longer in charge of Dr Newman's case."

Elroy's eyebrows rose and his lips turned down in the classic 'sturgeon face'.

"That' unusual," he commented. "I would have thought the Prosecutor's Office thankful for the great _Miles Edgeworth_ to be taking the case."

Miles ignored the half-compliment. "As would I."

Elroy narrowed his eyes. "You were taken off the case," he surmised.

"You'll have to speak with Prosecutor Payne about negotiating a deal."

"I see… it's a shame that you won't be on the case," Elroy said as he stood up. His tone indicated that he honestly believed this. He eyed Edgeworth uncertainly before taking his leave.

Miles slumped into his chair. It was only 10.30 and he already had a splitting headache. Thank you angry thoughts.

_Right, time for tea. _Tea was always relaxing.

As he went through the motions, he pondered what he was going to do now without even Gumshoe to help him. Wright's offer to help was looking better by the minute.

_Well, first things first, I should read all those alibis. _He went through the report more thoroughly than he did at the precinct, but found nothing pertinent to the murder.

_All right next: confirm the alibis of Albert van Hale and Cassandra Long. _

Both had already given statements on the first day of investigation, but that was when they'd thought Mina's death to be a suicide. _Now… they may just be singing a different tune._

Finding them was annoyingly difficult though. Brigitte van Hale had mentioned yesterday that the two were no longer staying at the estate. Edgeworth proceeded to ring the van Hale estate to find out where they were.

First, a man named Roger answered the phone – he had no idea who Cassandra or Albert even were; then he was transferred to the ever surly Gertrude, who was not forthcoming with _anything_. Finally, he convinced her to hand him over to Katherine, who was usually in charge of that sort of documentation. Thankfully, Katherine knew where they were staying and happily gave him the address. All up, the process had taken about 20 minutes.

Long and van Hale were staying at a beach house just outside the city. It had once been Mina and Albert's main home.

It was a beachfront property, fairly modest by van Hale standards. A large veranda extended out the front and to the left of the house, designed for outdoor dinning. A black Audi sat in the driveway.

Miles parked on the street and stepped out of the car, stretching his aching back. It had been a fairly long drive; 12 o' clock and his stomach was already complaining.

The front door was made of frosted glass and he could see a shadow moving in the hallway after he'd rung the doorbell.

Albert van Hale answered. "Edgeworth," he greeted in mild surprise. "This is unexpected."

"I've just come to confirm your alibi for the night of the murder, Mr. van Hale."

"Ah, of course. Come in, come in, make yourself at home." He stepped aside and let Miles enter before shutting the door behind him.

The interior was furnished as expected: white contemporary. Albert led him into the living, indicating for Miles to take a seat on the white leather couch.

Albert sat down on a similar couch opposite him, leaning his forearms on his thighs.

"How goes the investigation?" Albert inquired.

"Dr Newman's been arrested for drug manufacture and possession. No closer to catching Mina's killer."

Albert nodded solemnly and reclined back on the couch. Miles scanned the room; there were no obvious indicators that the house was lived in, no photos, flowers, papers, clothing – it looked like one of those show homes.

"Is Ms. Long here?"

"Ah, she just went out for a walk – it helps clear her head. Mina's death is still weighing heavily on her… that's why she's here y'know? She needs the company… couldn't stand living at the estate." Albert sighed, expression sombre.

Edgeworth wasn't fully convinced of his melancholy display; the man was too fickle with his emotions to be believable.

"Will she be long?" he asked, emotionless.

van Hale checked his watch. "She's been gone for a while. I'd say she'd be back soon."

Miles crossed his legs. "You haven't been back to the guesthouse then?"

"Ugh, no. Couldn't do it." Albert shook his head. "Too many memories there."

_As opposed to this house, the one you and Mina lived in most of the time?_ Miles didn't get a chance to bring it up as Albert continued to talk.

"The murder's spooked most of the staff – none of them can do their job properly anymore," he complained. "No one's cleaned any of the rooms, someone trampled all over the garden outside my window…" _Yes, I remember seeing that._ "It was just better to get away from all that," he explained as he waved a hand around.

Albert looked a great deal more relaxed than he had moments before. _Emotionally fickle indeed. _

"Well, let's talk about your alibi while we wait for Ms Long's return," Edgeworth suggested.

"Sure," Albert agreed, clasping his hands. "What do you need to know?"

"What were your movements after the party split til the next morning?"

Albert paused in though. "Well, the party ended at about, what, one-ish, so I got back to the guesthouse around ten past. Cassie walked with me, she'll confirm it."

"And after that?"

"Cassie and I parted ways. I went to my room and had a shower."

"Was this immediately after your return?" Miles asked.

Albert nodded. "It was already late and I tend to take long showers – didn't want to be getting into bed as the sun was rising." He chuckled, sobering when he realised Edgeworth was unamused.

"And how long did that take?"

van Hale twisted his lips to the side. "Ah… half an hour? I wasn't timing so…"

"Approximation is fine," Miles deadpanned. This man was beginning to get on his nerves. Acting like a smart arse during an interview about your _murdered wife_ didn't reflect well on you.

"Oh!" he exclaimed. "You can ask that maid…" he clicked his fingers trying to recall her name. "Katherine! Yes, she brought a bottle of wine to my room while I was still in the shower. She'd know at least the minimum time I was in there for."

"I'll be sure to check with her," Miles agreed stonily. Of course, he already knew Katherine had done this, but he wanted to make sure Albert wasn't going to try and lie to him.

"May I ask: why did you ask for a bottle of wine at one in the morning?" Miles inquired, crossing his arms.

Albert raised his palms. "Mina and I were more alike than you know. I find wine… _better_ than Ambien."

"So you had a glass and then went straight to bed?"

"Yes, that's correct."

"And you didn't see your wife at all?" Miles asked.

"No I didn't," Albert replied, rubbing a hand through his stubble. "If only I had…" he mumbled.

"Mr. van Hale, you can't – "

_**Knock, knock, knock.**_

"Oh, that'll be Cassie," Albert exclaimed. He jumped up out of his seat and strode quickly to the front door.

His absence gave Miles time to think. _Nothing about his story seems out of place…_ He frowned. _At this rate, everyone's going to have a solid alibi._

"Mr. Edgeworth!" Cassandra greeted as she entered the room. "What a lovely surprise."

Miles stood. "Ms Long, it's good to see you again."

She surprised him by pulling him in to a tight hug. Miles stood awkwardly in her embrace; he was definitely not the hugging type. Cassandra didn't seem to notice as she pulled away with a delighted smile.

"Please tell me you have good news."

"Nah, he hasn't any news to report," Albert interjected in a playfully disappointed tone.

Cassandra's smile dropped a little. "Oh, so no news on Mina's killer?" she asked, crestfallen.

"Unfortunately not, Ms. Long. I need to confirm your alibi for the night of the murder," Miles answered.

"Haven't I already done that?" She tilted her head to the side in confusion.

"That was before the investigation was considered a murder," he explained.

"Oh, I see." She turned to Albert. "Could you please make me some tea, dear?"

Albert nodded and crossed towards the kitchen.

"Would you like some, Mr. Edgeworth?" she inquired.

"Ah, yes, thank you."

Albert disappeared into the kitchen giving Miles and Cassandra some privacy. Cassie sat down on the couch next to him, smoothing down her windswept hair.

"So, what do you need to know?" she asked, echoing Albert's earlier question.

"What you did from when the party split til the next morning."

Cassandra folded her hands in her lap. "Well, I left the main house with Albert. We walked back to the guesthouse together. We got back at about ten past one."

_At least Albert's story seems to check out._

"And after that?" he asked.

Albert brought in the tea silently, setting both cups on the coffee table, before disappearing into the kitchen again. Cassandra and Miles picked up their cups.

Long took a thoughtful sip before answering. "I'm fairly certain I went straight to my room once we got back. I asked one of the maids for some tea. After she brought it to my room, I went to bed."

"And that's where you stayed til the next morning?" he asked, setting down his cup.

Cassandra took another sip, nodding as she swallowed. "Yes… I woke up the next morning when Albert came to tell me what happened."

Her eyes began to glisten and she wiped them with her hand to stop the tears from falling.

"You don't think Dr. Newman is the killer, do you?" she asked.

"I don't know. There's no evidence to suggest his guilt _or_ innocence," Edgeworth explained.

"But he _was_ Mina's blackmailer, wasn't he?" she questioned, the hint of desperation in her tone.

"That's correct," he confirmed. "At the moment, he's the most likely suspect…"

"But you have no evidence."

"Unfortunately."

Cassandra placed her tea down and looked at Edgeworth sternly.

"Promise me you'll catch the bastard that did this," she demanded.

"Don't worry, Ms. Long," he assured. "They're not going to get away with it."


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: Ahh, sorry for such the long delay. I _will_ finish this story, I swear. Uni's just gotten in the way. I think there'll be only 2-3 more chapters to go. Things are starting to wind up!**

* * *

><p><span>Chapter 13:<span>

Edgeworth arrived back at the office, no closer to solving Mina van Hale's murder. He'd stopped off at his usual lunch café before returning to work. That time had calmed his splitting headache to a dull throb and allowed him to think over the morning's events. Though still seething over Green's actions, he was determined not to let her distract him from his case. He was walking on thin ice now with Green threatening to take him off the van Hale murder and anger would not help his cause. He'd have to be more careful, especially since he planned to continue his investigation of Newman and Wesson's drug trafficking operation.

_Mina finding out about Newman and being murdered not long after cannot be a coincidence. Newman's the best lead I have, there's no way I'm letting him slip through my fingers. _

Hannah was typing furiously at her desk when Edgeworth walked passed.

"Mr. Edgeworth," she greeted. "I've scheduled your lunch meeting with Mr. Wright."

Miles masked his annoyance with indifference.

"And when will that be, Hannah?" he asked, checking his watch.

"Tomorrow at one, sir."

He raised his eyebrows. That was much sooner than he'd been expecting. _Just shows I can't rely on anyone doing anything right._

"_Tomorrow_?" he repeated.

Hannah's eyes widened; she realised he wasn't too happy with the timing.

"Yes, w-well, it's the weekend, s-sir and I thought that that would be the b-best time since you're not normally in then and M-Mr. Wright suggested the time himself…" she rambled on.

There was a long silence while Edgeworth waited for Hannah to regain her composure. She cleared her throat nervously.

"D-do you want me to reschedule, Mr. Edgeworth?"

"That won't be necessary, Hannah." What was done was done. Rescheduling would probably just lead to more issues. And besides, by the way things were going, he could do with a little extra help. Even if that help was Phoenix Wright. He started towards his office door.

"If that's all…?"

"Oh y-yes, sir. I've no messages for you." He nodded and entered his office.

Miles placed his briefcase down on his desk and set about making himself a cup of tea. He opened the alibi file whilst he waited for the water to boil and quickly wrote down what Cassandra Long and Albert van Hale had told him earlier. It was nothing new, but he hated waiting idly. He poured a cup once the water had boiled and sat down at his desk.

Everyone had an alibi for Mina's murder though none of them were any strong. He was convinced that the murderer couldn't be anyone but the main suspects: it had to be Brigitte, Daniel, Cassandra, Albert, Newman or Gardiner – he was sure of it.

He took a sip of his tea. Willamijna had been killed in the drawing room – had she met the killer there or had they rendezvoused somewhere else and moved to the room afterwards? Miles had no answer to that; no one had heard or seen anything during the night. That suggested to him that the meeting had been planned.

_But by whom?_

He took another sip of tea as he considered. And then a second and then a third.

_I have to think of this from another angle._

He rifled through the case files, finding the final crime scene report. It didn't contain what he was after. Edgeworth picked up the phone and called the van Hale's estate.

"Good afternoon, van Hale estate, Simon speaking. How may I help you?"

"This is Prosecutor Edgeworth, I'm investigating Ms. Willamijna's murder. I'd like to speak to Katherine please." _She's the only one competent enough for this task._

Simon was surprised. "Katherine? Is she in trouble?"

"Put her on, sir." Edgeworth had no time for chitchat.

"A-ah, yes, one moment please."

He heard a click indicating that he'd been put on hold. Miles took another drink of tea as he waited. The phone clicked again.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Edgeworth, how are you?" Katherine asked chirpily.

"I'm fine thank you. I need to ask you for a favour…"

"What can I do for you, sir?" she inquired politely.

"Do you have access to the floor plans of the estate?" It was a stretch, but he didn't have time to waste. _This would be the quickest way._

There was a pause. "Um… I may do, sir. Do you need them for your investigation?"

"I do, yes," he answered.

"I'll see what I can do, sir. If you'll wait one moment…" Her tone did not sound reassuring.

Katherine didn't put him on hold. He could hear the shuffling of papers and the opening and closing of drawers. Miles leant back in his chair and sipped the last of his tea.

_Hopefully Katherine will be able to find them. I don't want to make another trip out there myself._

Now that Gumshoe had been reassigned, Edgeworth had to do everything himself, which required very careful time management. He'd been investigating this case for almost a week so he couldn't afford to waste anymore time. It was protocol that any investigation that hadn't yielded a culprit was to be stopped after two weeks. It would then become a 'cold case' never to be revisited unless requested. Miles had never left a case unsolved, but after the transgressions of his early career had been revealed, he had begun to take more time during his investigations. He no longer sought a guilty verdict, only the truth. And the truth was a lot harder and took a lot longer to find.

The phone had gone silent on the other end. Katherine must have left the room. After another minute of waiting he heard footsteps and rustling.

"Mr. Edgeworth, sir?" He couldn't read anything from her tone.

"Yes, Katherine?"

"I found the floor plans like you asked, I did," she announced with glee.

Miles let out a breath in relief. "Thank you Ms. Katherine. Is it possible to email them to me?"

"I can do that for you, sir," she assured. "Just give me a little while to scan them onto the computer."

Edgeworth gave her his email address and hung up shortly after. He tidied up his desk, leaving only the alibi file in front of him. Since all the suspects had some sort of alibi, he was going to work out who had the best access to Mina's bedroom and the drawing room. His computer pinged ten minutes later– Katherine had sent him the floor plans.

After printing them out, he set them down in the middle of his desk. Taking a pen he marked where everyone claimed to be at the time of Mina's murder:

Brigitte and Daniel were in their bedroom on the second floor.

Albert and Cassandra were in their respective rooms in the guesthouse.

Dr. Newman and Stasia Wesson were in Newman's bedroom, next to his lab, on the second floor.

Jamie Gardiner was at his house in Fremantle – over one hour away from the van Hale estate.

The van Hales were only two doors down from Mina's bedroom and were directly opposite the stairs leading down to the first floor. They wouldn't have passed the staff rooms on either journey. Edgeworth traced their paths in yellow highlighter.

Dr. Newman and Wesson were at the very end of the hall, a good 6 doors away from Mina's bedroom. But like the van Hales, neither drug trafficker would have passed a staff room. Their paths were basically the same as the van Hales', only a little bit longer. He marked their routes in blue.

Albert and Cassandra were more difficult. They were at the guesthouse that night. Miles recalled that the front and back doors of the house had been deadbolted shut. The maids had assured him that they would have heard the doors being opened or closed – apparently they were very loud.

_Albert could have slipped out a window… Cassandra too if she was prepared to land in a river… Even if either of them were the killer, how did they get inside the estate? Did Mina let them in?_

There were several entrances to the estate. If it had been Albert or Cassandra, they probably would have used the west door near the kitchen, that way they didn't need to pass any bedrooms at all. The copse of trees would have shielded them from the guesthouse and main estate's windows.

As for Jamie Gardiner, there was no way he could have done it. High walls surrounded the estate and it was under 24-hour surveillance.

Miles leant back in his chair rubbing his eyes wearily. That had proven to be a fairly fruitless activity. He'd ruled Gardiner completely out, but as much as he disliked the man, Edgeworth hadn't thought he was the killer anyway. Although initially Cassandra Long had been the top suspect, it seemed very unlikely that she could be the murderer.

That left the van Hales, Albert, Wesson and Newman – still far too many suspects for Edgeworth's liking. The van Hales had the weakest motive; there was that business deal that hadn't gone through, but it wasn't something they would murder their own daughter over. Her death wouldn't have changed anything – Gardiner was going to reject the merger no matter what. Albert he still wasn't too sure about – the man was not acting like your typical widower, however that could just be because he was an arsehole. And Newman and Wesson… they had the strongest motive. Mina knew about their drug business; perhaps she'd decided to go to the police despite the blackmail.

As usual, this was all conjecture. Edgeworth still didn't have any proof. There wasn't much more he could do; his investigation was at a standstill yet again. _The best I can do is wait for Croak to examine those bruises… and if that yields nothing, then what?_

As he collected up the floor plans, his office phone began to ring. _Ugh, what _now_?_

He picked it up. "Prosecutor Edgeworth speaking."

"Mister Edgeworth," a woman replied in a sinister whisper.

Her voice immediately put him on edge. He sat rigidly in his chair.

"Who is this?" He demanded.

"I have a message for you…" the woman continued, ignoring his question. Edgeworth had received many of these types of calls before, but they were never any less unsettling. There was protocol for this and he knew it well. He punched a few numbers into the phone dock that went about recording and tracing the call.

_I have to keep her on for another minute._

"A message?" he asked. "What is it?" _55 seconds…_

The woman paused. _Good, the longer the better._

"You must know, Mister Edgeworth, that The Angel slew desire."

Her statement baffled him. "I'm sorry, could you repeat that?" _44 seconds…_

"The Angel slew desire," she repeated. _Is she talking in code?_

"What do you mean? Who's 'the Angel'?"

"Juliet knows. You must ask her." Miles stole a glance at the phone dock. _38 seconds…_

"Juliet…" he repeated slowly. "Who is Juliet?"

The woman chuckled softly on the other end. "Juliet: she who teaches the torches to burn bright."

There was something oddly familiar about that statement, but he didn't have time to dwell on it.

"'_Teaches the torches to burn bright'_? What does that mean?" He wasn't just stalling for time anymore; this woman wasn't making any sense.

"Mister Edgeworth." _21 seconds…_ "You are struggling to solve Willamijna van Hale's murder, yes?"

"How do you know that?" He didn't recognise the caller's voice so she couldn't have been anyone he'd interviewed. But more to the point, how did she know he was _struggling_?

"That's not for me to say." _9 seconds…_ "But Juliet will help you. She will illuminate the path to the killer."

"And how will she do that?" _So close now… just stay on the line for a few more seconds._

The woman sighed. "The Angel slew desire. Juliet will show you the way."

_4 more seconds…_ "This Juliet – where will I find her?"

"Goodbye, Mister Edgeworth." The red light on the phone dock switched to green; Miles silently rejoiced – it had been one minute and now he could trace the call. "Good luck with your investigation." And with that, the anonymous woman hung up.

Edgeworth did not replace the phone. He turned on the intercom.

"Hannah?"

"Y-yes, sir?"

"Put me through to the morgue," he demanded.

"O-of course, sir. One moment."

He tapped his desk impatiently. Time was of the essence.

"Lisa Benson is on line 3, sir," she announced.

"Thank you, Hannah," he said quickly, turning of the intercom and switching the phone to line 3. "Ms Benson?"

"Mr. Edgeworth. I was just about to call you – "

"I'm sorry but I have no time for that." And no time for courtesies either. "I need you to trace a call for me immediately."

Lisa understood that action needed to be taken quickly.

"Right. Your office phone?"

"Yes. How long will you be?"

"I can be there in ten," she vowed.

* * *

><p>True to her word, Lisa Benson reached his office in ten minutes, no doubt breaking a few road rules to do so. She looked dishevelled from rushing, but remained professional and composed. She marched to his desk and flipped open a laptop. Edgeworth stood at her left shoulder, watching her progress impatiently.<p>

Lisa connected the laptop to the phone and began typing away fervently. A piece of code flashed up on the screen. She pressed a few keys and a loading bar popped up.

"In a few minutes we'll know where the call came from." She didn't look up, instead continuing to observe the screen. Edgeworth nodded and began pacing about the room replaying the call in his head.

'_The Angel slew desire' … what does that _mean_?_ _Could it be a quote from a book? What the woman said about 'Juliet' sure sounded like one._ As far as he could tell, there were no Juliets or 'Angels' connected to Mina's murder. _It must be some sort of riddle._

He took a deep, calming breath. This case seemed to get harder and harder.

_The Angel slew desire… the Angel slew desire… What desire? Something biblical like lust, greed, envy? Or maybe it's more like the desire for attention or to cause pain? And then who is the Angel? _

"Mr. Edgeworth."

_Was she referring to someone involved in the case or religious connotations?_

"Mr. Edgeworth!"

"Hmm?" He spun around to face Lisa. He'd been so lost in his thoughts he hadn't even heard her the first time.

"It's done. We've found your mysterious caller." She turned the laptop towards him as he approached the desk.

"Corner of Andrews and Bexley, Alexandria Quay," Miles read off the screen. He furrowed his brow. _Why did that sound so familiar?_

Benson misinterpreted his expression. "There's no building there, but there is a public payphone."

"That's not…" Then it clicked. "Is that in the old industrial district?"

"Uhh… I think so. Why?" She gave him a bemused look.

Edgeworth used the finger pad to scroll about the satellite map on the screen. _There it is! Only two blocks away._

"I'm sorry, have to go. Thank you for your help." He scrambled to gather his things; he needed to get to his car and quick.

"Wait! Where are you going?" Lisa slammed her laptop shut, unplugging it from the phone and chased after Edgeworth as he all but ran out of his office.

"You're dismissed, Hannah," he informed his secretary as he passed her. He didn't hear her response – he'd already strode round the corner.

"Edgeworth, where are you going?" Lisa repeated as she moved swiftly to his side.

"Jamie Gardiner's offices are in Alexandria Quay," he explained.

"So you think he made the call," Lisa surmised.

"Not personally – the caller was a woman."

He pushed open the door to the stairwell and began rushing down the stairs. Lisa Benson was right on his heels and made no comment on his avoidance of the lift.

"So it was one of his employees then?"

They passed the 10th floor.

"I'd say so," he answered distractedly. Lisa readjusted her grip on her laptop. She was having trouble carrying it along with all the chords and computing paraphernalia she'd brought. Normally, Edgeworth would have offered to hold some of it for her, but both his hands were already full. _Why is she even rushing with me? It's not like she's coming…_

He stole a glance at her as they passed the 6th floor; her cheeks were flushed with exhaustion but her expression held no insights into what she was thinking. When they reached the 5th floor landing Lisa stopped suddenly. Miles had no time to waste so he continued his descent.

"Edgeworth," she called after him.

He was already halfway down the next flight of stairs when he stopped. He looked up at the mortician clutching her laptop to her chest.

"Yes?" he asked impatiently.

"Let me come with you. You never know when you'd need someone with a little forensic knowledge."

He didn't have time to argue. "Fine." He turned around and resumed his way down the stairs, not waiting for Lisa to catch up. _There's no harm in her coming along – she couldn't be worse than Gumshoe. _Lisa caught up to him as they passed the 4th floor.

"So this woman," Lisa began, her breathing ragged. "What did she say?"

"I don't know exactly." She gave him an odd look. "She was speaking in riddles," he clarified.

Lisa scowled. "How irksome."

"Indeed."

They made the rest of the descent in silence. As they reached the ground floor Lisa awkwardly checked her watch, struggling to hold her belongings.

"It's 4.15 on a Friday afternoon," she announced.

Edgeworth pulled open the door and let Lisa pass before him.

"Your point being?" Unfortunately the main stairs didn't connect to the garage so they had to cross the main lobby to get to the basement stairs.

"Not everyone is a workaholic like you," she pointed out. "This close to the weekend – he could've gone home already."

Miles stopped in his tracks. "And we don't want to make a wasted trip."

Lisa agreed. "Exactly."

Edgeworth shifted his belongings into one arm and pulled out his phone. There was no mobile reception down in the basement so he would need to make the call in the lobby. He was interrupted just as he was about to press 'call'.

"Prosecutor Edgeworth!" Stalking out of the lifts was none other than Attorney General Green. _The last person I wanted to see._

She stormed up to him, unfazed by the fact that she was clearly interrupting.

"Where are you going?" she demanded. Miles felt many sets of eyes on him and could see a few people outright staring. _Yes, let's make a scene. That's not something we want to avoid._ AG Green seemed to have run out of patience; she didn't wait for him to reply.

"It's almost four thirty – do you remember our little chat from this morning?" _How could I forget?_ He made to reply, but Green just kept going. "Prosecutor Payne still doesn't have the Newman files."

Edgeworth narrowed his eyes. This woman was quickly becoming the most infuriating person he'd ever met. "He'll have them."

"Really? Because it looks like you're about to leave."

"And I'll be back to give him the files," he retorted.

Green crossed her arms, unsatisfied. "Before five?"

Well, she had him there. There was absolutely no way he could go to Gardiner's office or home, question him and be back at the DA's by five. He was good, but he wasn't _that_ good.

Green took his silence as her answer. "That's what I thought." She stepped closer to Edgeworth, her face less than a foot away from his. "Let me remind you what happens if Payne doesn't have those files in half an hour…"

"I'm well aware of the consequences, Mrs. Green," he informed her, leaning as far away as he could without her being able to notice. Lisa Benson shuffled her tech gear in her arms, catching Green's attention. The Attorney General glanced at her suspiciously before returning her interest back to Edgeworth.

"So I'll ask again: where are you going?" Her eyes flickered back to Lisa briefly.

"To question a person of interest," he replied icily.

"_A person of interest_," she repeated, eyes sliding back to Lisa. "And why is… _she_ with you?" It sounded like an accusation.

"To assist in my investigation." He narrowed his eyes at her. She was implying something here. _But what?_

She regarded them both, lips pursed, clearly not buying his explanation.

"I'm _sure_ she is," Green finally replied. She gave the pair a steely glare – Lisa more so than him – and made to walk away. "5pm, no later," she warned before marching back towards the lifts.

It wasn't until she'd vanished into one of the lifts that Lisa spoke.

"Charming woman she is."

"Couldn't agree with you more." _I hope that's the last I see of her in a long while. Twice in one day is two times too many. _"Right, well." He redialled Gardiner's number before giving the lobby a cursory glance. He did not want to be interrupted a second time.

"CanCorp Executive Quarters, Nathan speaking."

"This is Prosecutor Edgeworth. Is Mr. Gardiner still at the office? I must speak with him urgently."

"I'm sorry, sir, but you've just missed him. Would you like to leave a message?"

"No, do you have his home address?" Miles asked curtly.

"I'm sorry, but I'm not – "

"Sir, this is a criminal investigation – "

"Of course but it wouldn't be of much use because Mr. Gardiner is no longer in the country."

Edgeworth clenched his jaw painfully hard. It was setback after setback today. _Gardiner better not plan on doing a runner from me._

"Where did he go?" Miles ground out. Lisa gave him a concerned look as he turned a walked a few steps away from her.

"Canada, Mr. Edgeworth. Toronto." That made sense at least– Gardiner was originally from there. It was no less frustrating though.

"And when will Mr. Gardiner be back?"

"Early Monday morning, sir. Would you like to make an appointment?"

Edgeworth took a deep breath. There was nothing to be done – no use getting worked up about it.

"No, I'll… work something out." _Hopefully the police database will have his Canadian phone number._ "Thank you." With that he hung up. He slipped his phone back into his pocket and rebalanced his load of files into both hands. He turned back to Lisa, who was fiddling intently with one of her chords despite the fact that her arms were full.

He'd been hoping that Gardiner would tell him what the call had meant. But now… he'd just have to do it himself.


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14:

Edgeworth sighed deeply in frustration. He walked back over to Lisa who was looking at him expectantly.

"Gardiner's in Canada," he explained.

"Canada?"

"Yes, that's where he's originally from. He was only in the US for business."

Lisa frowned. "You don't think he's doing a runner on us, do you?"

Edgeworth sighed again. "I don't know," he said honestly.

Lisa shifted her gear in her arms. "So, what do we do now?"

"_We?_ Nothing. I still need to run a few errands, but you're free to go." He started towards the stairs back up to his office. Lisa followed.

"But –"

"Go home, Ms. Benson," he interrupted tersely.

She was going to protest but thought better of it. With an icy glare she turned and stalked out of the lobby. Edgeworth began his long trek up 12 flights of stairs. Normally, he had no trouble climbing them, but it was almost five on a Friday and he'd just run down these stairs minutes ago. He was exhausted by the time he reached his office. He dropped all the case files on his desk and watched them slide to spread out messily. He was too tired to care. And, to rub salt in his wounds, it was ten to five meaning he had to get the drug files to Winston Payne quickly. Miles gathered them up, wishing he hadn't dismissed Hannah earlier (of course his assistant had left immediately).

Payne's office was on the seventh floor, so it was back down the stairs for Edgeworth. As he walked down the hall towards room 712, junior prosecutors were making their way home. He glared at any that looked his way. He didn't bother knocking, striding into Payne's office unannounced. The man had been spinning in his chair idly, only still here because of Edgeworth. He jumped in his seat and spun around when Miles slapped the file down on his desk.

"The Newman file," he deadpanned.

"Oh, uh, th-thank you, Edgeworth," Payne squeaked. He brushed a hand over his already glistening forehead. Truly, he was a pathetic man. _Certainly not worthy of taking this case from me._

He turned on his heel and marched out of Payne's office without another word.

* * *

><p>Criminal Affairs was the quietest Miles had seen it all week. The mood was far less anxious than it had been earlier that morning; Edgeworth had heard on the radio that the coronial inquest had gone according to plan on his drive over. Ivan Gool and his accomplice will be tried for ten counts of murder and 19 counts of attempted murder. He pitied the lawyer who'd have to deal with that mess.<p>

He wove through the desks of the patrol officers and detectives, making his way towards the internal inquiries desk. A young man who couldn't have been two years out of school was seated behind the desk. His eyes widened comically when he recognised who was walking towards him.

"I need the personal phone number of Jamie Gardiner in Toronto, Canada."

The young man nodded emphatically. "Right away, sir." He began typing away on his computer. Despite his youth he was quick at his job. In less than five minutes he handed Miles a print out of all the Jamie Gardiners in Toronto and their phone numbers. Miles spotted the Gardiner he was looking for easily enough.

"Thank you," he said, folding the page up and tucking it in his pocket. On his way out, Edgeworth saw Detective Gumshoe chatting away with one of his colleagues. Miles quickened his pace; he was not in the mood to talk to him right now (not that he ever really was).

* * *

><p>The sun had completely set by the time Edgeworth reached home. After a quick dinner and shower, he settled behind his desk, files splayed out in front of him. He played the recording of the anonymous phone call, writing down everything that was said until he had a word perfect script. To decode what the woman had meant he began with the first cryptic phrase: '<em>the Angel slew desire<em>'. Edgeworth frowned down at the words. He didn't recognise them from any book or poem – they may have been a product of Gardiner's imagination. Miles flipped open his laptop and typed the phrase into Google. As he expected, many of the results where related to the bible. He skimmed through a few, but all the words seemed to blur together. He decided they were irrelevant. Apart from that, there were a few pages about _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_, but none of them made sense in the context of the case.

Miles rubbed his eyes wearily, turning away from his laptop for the moment. _If it's not a quote, I guess I'll have to work it out myself…_ He looked back down at the phrase. When he'd first tried to puzzle it out back in his office, he couldn't decide whether '_the Angel'_ was referring to a suspect in the case or something religious. Whatever it was, he could only assume that it related to the murderer in some way.

_If that's the case, could '_desire_' be referring to Mina?_ There was only one way to find out: research. He woke his laptop from sleep mode and began searching. 'Slaying desire' yielded nothing of interest, so Edgeworth reluctantly reduced it simply to 'desire'. The results covered myriad topics from definitions to clothing brands to song lyrics to hotel resorts. He sifted through anything that sounded even slightly relevant. After trying to puzzle out a chapter on desire by Kojève (and failing miserably), he closed the laptop in disgust.

After being hunched over his computer for over an hour, his muscles were tense and sore, eyes stinging and head pounding. He stood up, joints popping painfully from disuse, and wandered into the kitchen to make tea. Once he'd taken a few sips, he felt his whole body relax. Ready for more work, he went back to his study.

He decided to let the first phrase lie, opting to work out who Juliet was supposed to be instead.

'_She who teaches the torches to burn bright_…' Something niggled at the back of his brain. He recognised the phrase from somewhere, which was a good sign._ Maybe I'll finally catch a break._ He typed in the quote. Relief washed over him when all the results turned up the same thing: it was from Shakespeare's _Romeo and Juliet_. He clicked the link that claimed to deconstruct Shakespeare quotes.

"_Juliet_," the site read, "_is so __**bright**__ (as in shining with radiant beauty) that the __**torches**__ look up to her as an example_."

Miles stared at the screen, read the quote and re-read it. _Juliet… could you be Mina?_ He supposed Willamijna had been a good-looking woman (not that he really took notice of those things), but it seemed like an odd thing to say in the context of the phone call. Did it mean Mina was going to help him solve the case? He'd read all her letters and emails, figured out who her blackmailer was… what else was there? The intangible problem with the crime scene photos? But if that were the case, how did Gardiner (or anyone else for that matter) know about it? Edgeworth hadn't told anyone.

He sighed. _It was naïve of me to think I'd actually catch a break in this case._

He checked the other results of his search briefly – they all said the same thing. Miles couldn't really make any inferences on his own; while he'd read the play (and a few others), Shakespearean literature had not been a significant aspect of his education. Von Karma had always seen the arts as frivolous and a waste of time when he could be learning about the finer points of German law.

He shut down his laptop. It was midnight and he didn't see the point of staying up late to accomplish nothing.

He prepared for bed, checking his phone as his last task (as per his nightly routine) to find his message icon flashing. It was from Phoenix Wright.

_Hey Edgeworth :)_

_Meet café opposite People Park for tomorrow?_

_PW_

Edgeworth sighed deeply. He'd completely forgot about that. He replied, agreeing to the suggestion, and put his phone down on the bedside table, slipping under the covers.

_Wasn't Wright a drama major before he did law?_ Miles wondered. _Maybe he'll have more insight on the quotes than I…_ He fell asleep hopeful that Wright would be helpful for once.

* * *

><p>Wright was already at the café absentmindedly flicking through the lunch menu. He was wearing his usual shabby blue suit (<em>does he live in that thing?<em>) and his hair was as wild as ever. The café itself wasn't too bad considering it had been Wright's suggestion; a little less up market than what Edgeworth would have preferred, but it would serve.

Wright was so engrossed with his thoughts that he didn't notice Edgeworth until the prosecutor cleared his throat.

"Oh, Edgeworth! Hey," he greeted, rubbing the back of his head sheepishly.

"Wright." Miles slipped into the booth opposite him. "You're early." _For once._

"The buses only come every hour on Saturday," Wright explained.

_Only Wright wouldn't have a driver's licence at 26…_

Wright fiddled with the corner of his menu, suddenly at a loss for words. "So, uh… how are you?"

Miles picked up his own menu. "I'm fine, Wright." He skimmed the selection, none of the options piquing his interest. Phoenix was just about to say something when their waiter approached. "I'll have the salad and a coffee, thank you," Miles announced. The waiter nodded, scribbling it down on his notepad.

"And you, sir?" he asked Phoenix.

"Oh, um…" He fumbled with the menu, scanning the page for his choice. "The grilled chicken sandwich and a coffee for me as well, thanks."

The waiter nodded again. "Shouldn't be too long," he assured, taking the menus with him.

After a long, awkward silence Miles finally spoke. "So why were you so eager to have this meeting?" he asked.

Phoenix shifted in the booth, sunlight glistening off his attorney's badge. _Does he ever take that off?_

"Well… it's just that we haven't seen each other in so long, so I thought we should catch up."

Edgeworth hummed. "And what's the _real _reason?"

Phoenix was taken aback. "What? That _is_ the real reason."

Miles was unconvinced but he decided to let the subject drop. He turned his gaze to the window. The waiter returned with their coffee as Phoenix was shredding his serviette into pieces. He immediately reached for the sugar and, to Edgeworth's disgust, poured in three whole packets.

"What?"

"If you're going to ruin a good cup of coffee, please don't do it in my presence."

Phoenix carelessly began to stir the revolting concoction, unaware there was some spilling down the sides of the mug.

"I knew you were a tea snob, but I didn't think you'd care so much about coffee," he joked.

"I'm offended that you'd think my tastes so limited," he said taking a tentative sip of his unspoilt drink.

The conversation continued like that as they ate their lunch. Wright told him of Larry's latest woes and of the Fey cousins, how much Pearl had grown and how weird it was to see Maya as the Master of Kurain. He even spoke of Sister Iris briefly; he'd visited her in prison a few times and they exchanged letters often.

Wright finally stopped for breath, trying in vain to wipe his fingers on his shredded serviette.

"So… solved the case yet?"

Edgeworth pushed his empty plate away from him. "Not yet. I have a new lead, which I'm looking into…"

"Oh, good, good," Wright said, conspicuously enthusiastic.

"Wright…" he began reluctantly. The defence attorney leant forward in his seat as if he already knew what Miles was going to ask. "I… I may require your assistance."

A stupid grin spread across Wright's idiotic face. "I knew you'd eventually need the help of my superior legal brain!"

Edgeworth motioned for the waiter to bring the bill. "_Superior_? Wright, need I remind you that I'm not the one whose main tactic is to bluff first, think later." The waiter brought over the bill and took away their empty plates.

"Hey, it works! I've only ever lost one case. How many have _you_ lost?"

Both lawyers reached for bill but Miles was quicker. Wright had been too distracted with his own gloating.

"Winning does not indicate skill, Wright. Payne was undefeated until you showed up." He took out a few notes from his wallet and tossed them on top of the bill. "Besides," he continued, standing up, "I've prosecuted at least four times as many cases as you've taken on. I probably _still_ have a better average." With a smirk, he turned away leaving Phoenix to scramble after him.

When they reached his car, Phoenix spoke up again. "So, what has stumped the great Prosecutor Edgeworth so much that he's asked for help?"

Edgeworth frowned at his smug tone and got into the car to avoid answering the question. Phoenix followed.

"So, what – wow! Look at this car!" Wright ran his hands along the dashboard, wide-eyed and gaping.

Edgeworth started up the engine. "It's as if you've never been in a car before," he said dryly.

"Never one like _this_ before. It must've cost you a fortune. Maybe even more than my apartment!" _I wouldn't be surprised…_ "Ooh, what's this?"

"Don't touch that," Miles commanded, swatting Wright's hand away from the touch screen on the dashboard.

"Hmph, _fine_." The defence attorney crossed his arms and pouted. Miles drove in silence as Phoenix continued to sulk. They went five minutes before the silence was broken again. "You never answered my question: why do you need help – _my_ help?"

Edgeworth sighed. "It's a long and slightly absurd story –"

"Trust me – I'm used to absurd."

"Mm, of course you are. Basically, I received an anonymous phone call yesterday, and because my life is never simple, the caller was speaking in riddles."

"And you think _I_ have a better chance of working out those riddles?" Wright asked, incredulous.

"Well, one part of the riddle is a quote from Shakespeare and I seem to recall that you were once a drama major…"

The defence attorney chuckled. "Ah yes, the old drama days. Those were good times."

Edgeworth eyed him sceptically. "I'm sure they were…" No doubt his definition of 'good times' was very different to Wright's.

* * *

><p>"Hmmm…" Wright flicked through the script of the anonymous call. He was sitting in Edgeworth's desk chair, the prosecutor watching impatiently over his shoulder. "HMMMMM…" Edgeworth rolled his eyes.<p>

"Out with it already, Wright!"

"Edgeworth, you can't rush genius," Wright said without looking up. He frowned at the paper. "Hmmm…"

Edgeworth's eye twitched. "Why are you taking so long? I thought you were supposed to be good at this sort of thing."

"Well, maybe if I could _read your writing_, I'd have solved it by now."

"Don't blame me for your inability to read cursive, Wright." He sighed and headed towards the hall. "I need some tea," he mumbled, leaving Wright humming at his desk.

When he returned, Wright was throwing a paper plane across the room.

"What are you doing, Wright?"

"Solved it."

Edgeworth stared at him. "_Well_?"

"Oh, right. This line – 'she who teaches the torches to burn bright' – is from Romeo and Juliet."

Miles placed his tea down on the desk. "Yes, I was already aware of that."

"Did you know it's right before Romeo's famous 'what's in a name?' speech?"

"Is that supposed to mean something?" _Where's he going with this?_

"_A rose by any other name would smell as sweet_," Phoenix recited with all the grandiose theatrics of a drama student.

_Does he think I'm some sort of idiot?_ "Yes, I _knew_ that. I was –"

"I think that line is the key to solving this whole riddle," Wright interrupted.

Edgeworth blinked. "It is?"

Wright grinned triumphantly. "Yep. It basically means that the names of things are not what matters, only what those things are."

"So you're saying…"

"That 'Angel' and 'Desire' are names for two people in this case… I think."

Edgeworth thought back to last night and the theory he had on 'desire' being Willamijna.

"I _did_ think that 'desire' was referring to Ms. Van Hale – she was quite the popular woman, beautiful by most standards and –"

"I think you're overcomplicating things, Edgeworth." Wright motioned for him to come round to his side of the desk. Miles looked of curiously as the defence attorney searched for baby name sites. "Type in her name." Miles obeyed.

"You think the caller meant it in the most literal sense?"

"There's only one way to find out… Here we go. Willamijna: alternate spelling of Wilhelmina, feminine form of Wilhelm, German form of William… Yes!" Wright pointed to the screen. "It means: 'will or desire'." He fist-pumped the air before rubbing his attorney's badge as if to polish it. "Phoenix Wright: Ace Attorney, baby!"

Edgeworth rolled his eyes again – not usually a habit of his, but Wright was always an exception. "Yes, that's very nice Wright, but you've only solved half of it." He stared down at the spiky haired man who instantly sobered.

"Oh, yeah… the 'Angel'. Well that should be easy enough. Who else is there?"

"Albert?"

"No."

_He didn't even look that up…_ "Brigitte?"

"Nope."

_How is he…? _"…Cassandra?"

Wright shook his head. "Nu-uh."

"Michael?"

Wright jumped in his chair excitedly. "Yes!" he exclaimed, "yes, yes, yes, _yes!_" He spun around in the chair, hands in the air. "That's it! Michael slew Willamijna. Michael did it; _he_ killed her."

_I think those assistants of his are getting to him._ "Wright."

"Yes, yes, I know I'm a genius. I'll accept cash or credit card for my services, but _no cheque_," he explained with narrowed eyes.

Edgeworth took a sip of his tea, wincing at the tepid temperature. "Wright. I'm glad you are quite… proud of your achievement, but you do realise that you haven't solved the case?"

"Whaaaat?" He scoffed. "Of course I have." He pushed himself out of the chair. "You're just unspeakably jealous."

Edgeworth sighed. "_No_, you just decoded what an _anonymous caller_ told me. They could be lying."

Phoenix struggled for a retort. "You're probably right," he conceded with a sigh.

Edgeworth shook his head at the attorney. Sometimes he wondered how he'd ever lost to him.

* * *

><p>It was not unusual to find Miles Edgeworth at Criminal Affairs on a Sunday and the skeleton staff that was on duty didn't bother to give him a second glance. Lars Elroy, Michael Newman's lawyer, hadn't been able to make it to the precinct yesterday and had begrudgingly agreed to the interview today. He was already in the interrogation room with his client when Edgeworth entered.<p>

"Sorry for the late notice. I hope there wasn't any considerable inconvenience."

Elroy sniffed. "Let's just get this over and done with."

"Of course," Edgeworth agreed with a polite smile. He sat down and opened his briefcase, sneaking a glance at Dr. Newman. The man looked as nervous as ever: his forehead was already glistening with sweat and his fingers tapped quietly on the edge of the table. Clearly his time in remand hadn't done him any favours.

"Prosecutor Edgeworth," Elroy spoke up. "I thought you were no longer on this case."

"Oh no, I'm no longer in charge of the drug manufacturing case, but that's not why we're here today."

Elroy raise a brow. "What then do you wish to talk about?" he asked with forced civility.

"Ms. van Hale's murder."

Elroy huffed and leant back in his chair. "We've been through this already. Unless you have new evidence – "

"I do… of sorts."

Elroy was unconvinced. "_Of sorts_? Out with it, then."

"Dr. Newman…"

The man in question froze, ceasing his fidgeting.

"Y-yes?"

"On Friday I received an anonymous call. The caller seemed convinced that you were responsible for Ms. van Hale's death."

"This is ridiculous," Elroy sneered. "An 'anonymous caller'? That's not proof of anything. For all we know, it could have been you."

"Please counsellor, if you'll give me a moment to explain…"

Lars Elroy rolled his eyes, but gestured for him to continue.

"Thank you." Back to Newman: "We traced the call to a location connected to another person of interest in this case."

"Who?" Elroy asked impatiently.

"I cannot say. However, this coupled with your blackmailing of Ms. van Hale is all very compelling."

"Nonsense," Elroy spat as Newman said, "I'm innocent, I swear!"

Lars Elroy sent his client a dirty look.

"I didn't kill her, honest." Newman's eyes frantically searched about the room for an exit.

"Dr. Newman," Miles began calmly, "at this stage, you are the most likely suspect. You've already admitted to blackmailing her, we know that she'd stumbled upon your black market scheme… I think it's time to come clean, doctor."

"Don't say another word, Newman. This interview is over." Elroy pushed himself out of the chair and looked down at his client expectantly. Newman remained seated.

"N-no, Detective Edgeworth is right. It's time for… the truth."

Newman explained his plan, how he would kill Willamijna van Hale. At one point, Elroy threw up his arms in an 'I give up' gesture and stalked to the other side of the room. It would happen in August at Mina's birthday party. She had a particular love of scallops that no one else in her family did. Newman had concocted a poison that was similar to a bacteria occasionally found in seafood. Mina would die and the coroner would declare COD as food poisoning.

"But I swear to you – that was supposed to be this August, not two weeks ago. I didn't kill her!"

Edgeworth looked at the man before him. He seemed sincere and what he said made sense – Atroquinine was far too conspicuous for someone who had the ability to make dozens of poisons.

For perhaps the first time in his life, Michael Newman had been brave…

…And Miles Edgeworth believed him.


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N:** I'm _so, so_ sorry about the delay. I waited until university was finished for the semester so I could devote my full attention to this story. This chapter's slightly shorter than usual, but you'll see why when you read it. Next chapter will also be the final chapter. I can't wait to finish this story and again thank you to all those who've commented/fav'd etc!

* * *

><p>Edgeworth exited the interrogation room with conflicting emotions. He was relieved that he was finally able to cross another suspect off the list. Now there were only four suspects left: Albert, Cassandra, Brigitte and Daniel. He was frustrated though, because Dr. Newman hadn't been able to give him any new information that could point him towards the killer. And he was still hiding something about the black market drug operation.<p>

_So, that anonymous phone call was just a rouse… But why did Jamie Gardiner orchestrate it? Was it all just a distraction to get me off his trail?_ Edgeworth had ruled Gardiner out as a suspect what seemed like a long time ago, but he was now concerned that had been premature. To make matters worse, Edgeworth still hadn't been able to contact the man all weekend. Gardiner's phone kept going straight to voicemail. That it hadn't been disconnected altogether was a good sign, but Miles still worried.

Edgeworth stalked towards the main lobby of Criminal Affairs. He'd go all the way up to Canada if he had to; there was no way he was letting a killer walk free.

"Get me someone from the Toronto Police," he ordered the officer at the main desk.

"Y-yes, sir. Right away, sir." The young officer fumbled with the phone.

"I don't think that will be necessary, gentlemen."

Edgeworth spun towards the smug voice. Sauntering up to him was none other than Jamie Gardiner.

"Ha ha! Weren't expecting me were you, Edgeworth? I must say I'm a little offended."

"What are you doing here?" Edgeworth demanded. "Your secretary –"

"Yes, yes," Gardiner interrupted. "I _was_ in Toronto, but only for a day. I had some unfinished business to attend to. That's actually why I'm here."

Edgeworth eyed him suspiciously. The officer behind the desk looked between the two, mouth agape. Miles gestured for him to out the phone back down. "I think it's best we speak in private." He motioned for Gardiner to follow him into one of the empty conference rooms, thankful that it was a Sunday and no one was around. The two sat down opposite each other.

"Well, isn't this quaint?"

"Why are you here, Gardiner?" Edgeworth was in no mood for idle chatter. This man had caused him enough headaches in the past few days – he didn't need another.

Gardiner made an exaggerated frown. "Aw, straight to business? If you insist…" He leant back in his chair, getting comfortable. "I suppose you want to know what that phone call was all about, don't you?"

"Dr. Newman."

"Yes!" Gardiner exclaimed.

"But he's not Mina van Hale's killer."

"He's not," Gardiner admitted, "but that's not why I called you."

Edgeworth sighed in frustration. "Then why _did_ you call me?"

"First, I'll explain why I left." He leant forward excitedly. "I went home to bring back some decisive evidence from an associate that would crack this case wide open. The call was to keep you busy, lead you in the right direction. I was hoping you'd get a confession whilst I was away."

Miles stared at Gardiner in disbelief. "A confession? From whom?"

"Newman, of course." _Oh yes, __of course__._

"Newman…" Edgeworth rubbed his temple wearily. _Gardiner must be headache inducing by nature_. "Yes, he confessed to his plan to murder Ms. van Hale, but that wasn't supposed to be til this August. Planning a murder isn't illegal, not unless you take steps towards its completion."

Gardiner stared at him with genuine surprise. "Well. Dr. Newman, hey… who knew he had it in him?"

"Wait… you _didn't_ know about Newman's plan?" _Just what is going on here?_

Edgeworth's confusion must have been all over his face as Gardiner chortled. He rubbed moisture away from his eyes.

"The confession wasn't to _murder_, Mr. Edgeworth. It was to drug manufacture."

Miles thought carefully about his next words; there was clearly something he was missing in this conversation. He spoke slowly: "Yes, Dr. Newman confessed to that on Friday…"

"Ah, but has he told you the identity of his second accomplice?" Gardiner reached into his inside jacket pocket and pulled out a small manila envelope. Miles had suspected another accomplice; Newman simply didn't have the guts to deal with black market criminals.

"And this is your decisive evidence?" Miles asked, taking the envelope.

Gardiner nodded. "No peeking!" he warned as Edgeworth began opening it.

"Excuse me?"

"I have to tell you the _full_ story first. Wouldn't want to spoil the ending."

Edgeworth's right eye twitched. _I don't have time for this_. But Gardiner didn't look like he would compromise, so with a sigh, Miles placed the file back on the table. "Fine, but be quick about it."

Jamie leant forward and rubbed his hands together. "Excellent. So, you've probably been wondering why Mina took such an interest in Dr. Newman, yeah? Well…" He paused to grin wickedly. "It's because _I_ told her to."

"And why would you do that?" Edgeworth asked, narrowing his eyes.

"My… _associates_ we'll call them told me about some shady activities taking place in the van Hale estate. I couldn't get any of them on "the inside", so I got myself a double agent."

"Mina van Hale," Miles surmised.

"That's right. We'd grown close during our time working on the merger – it was pretty easy to enlist her help."

"Was it? I find that hard to believe." The Mina he'd known hadn't been _that_ shallow. If she was going to spy on her family, there must've been some better incentive.

"What? Attractive man meets attractive girl, you understand, right?"

"No, I don't." Miles stared at Gardiner, unconvinced, until the man cracked.

"Alright, alright," he said with placating hands. "I offered her a great deal of money." Miles quirked a brow. "Okay, _and_ the guarantee that she'd become CEO of the newly merged company."

"But you were never planning on accepting the merger."

Gardiner chuckled. "_Weeeeell_," he began, palms raised in a 'what-can-you-do' gesture, "nothing was set in stone. Or writing."

_This man… just looking at him makes me sick_. Edgeworth had long since lost all tolerance for emotional manipulators; his life and career had once been dominated by them, so he knew firsthand how awful they truly were.

Gardiner cleared his throat when he realised Edgeworth hadn't found the comment amusing. In a far more sombre tone, he continued:

"I must admit, I wasn't interested simply in the involvement of Dr. Newman – he's a small fish. _But_ my associates told me he had an accomplice. One that I just could not ignore."

Edgeworth was beginning to realise who the accomplice was, but he let Gardiner continue.

"Remember my mischievous plan to consider a merger as a cover for looking into van Hale's financials?" _How could I forget?_ "Well, I'd found out he was flat broke, but what interested me more was that he hadn't started selling off any of his assets."

"I found that curious as well," Edgeworth commented.

"Very curious," Gardiner agreed. "I had my associates do a little investigation of their own…" He pointed to the envelope. "Go ahead, open it."

Miles picked it up and tore open one of the sides. The decisive evidence, in the form of three Polaroids, slid out as he turned the envelope upside down.

The first picture was a mid shot of two men in suits in what looked to be a back alley. He didn't recognise either so Miles picked up the next photo. This one was from another angle – the two men had their backs to the camera and through them he could see a third man. Miles looked at the photo more closely, not wanting to believe what he saw.

"Daniel van Hale," Gardiner confirmed.

Edgeworth nodded stiffly. He'd had his suspicions after interviewing Newman on Friday. He had hoped he'd been wrong.

The third photo showed van Hale shaking one of the men's hands and accepting a briefcase. He put the photo down and looked back up at Gardiner waiting for him to elaborate.

"Those two gentlemen you may or may not recognise are Carlo Adami and Louie Moschella, known members of the American-Sicilian mafia."

"Are they –"

"Yep, they're drug dealers. Specifically, Atroquinine and Cyanide."

Edgeworth returned his hand to his temple.

"Right. Thank you for your assistance, Mr. Gardiner," he said, gathering up the photos and slipping them back in the envelope.

"My pleasure," he said, standing up. "Now, I've got me a company to buy out."

Miles remained in that conference room long after Gardiner left. No closer to solving Mina's murder, but he did have damning evidence for the drug manufacture case. Problem was, he was no longer assigned to it. Payne had all the files and Attorney General Green had explicitly forbidden him from staying involved. If he disobeyed, it would cost him the murder case and possibly even his position as High Prosecutor.

_But… it's my duty as a prosecutor to uncover the truth and to ensure all criminals receive justice. I can't just let this go for the safety of my career._

He'd need an arrest warrant and he knew just the person who'd give him one, despite AG Green's threats.

* * *

><p>"Well, Mr. Edgeworth. It seems you've come into the possession of some quite decisive evidence," the Judge said. "I'm satisfied this is sufficient for an arrest warrant."<p>

Edgeworth let out a sigh of relief. "Thank you, Your Honour."

"Now… Just where did I put that form…?" The Judge rifled through his desk drawers and the endless piles of papers in them. _Looks like he's just as disorganised as Wright._ "Aha! Here we are." The Judge quickly filled in the required information and signed at the bottom. He was about to hand the warrant to Miles but thought better for the moment. "Are you sure this is what you want to do?"

"Of course, Your Honour," Edgeworth replied, taken aback. What on earth was he implying? That Miles just ignore the whole affair?

"I know Mr. van Hale has been instrumental in your work overseas… You could get one of your colleagues to do this," he suggested, waving the warrant.

"No, Your Honour. I assure you I am most capable of doing something as simple as this."

"Oh, I don't doubt _that_. But no one ever wants to arrest a friend."

"I can handle it," Edgeworth assured.

The Judge nodded at his conviction. "Very well." He handed over the warrant. "Best of luck to you, Prosecutor Edgeworth."

* * *

><p>He'd been lucky enough to find some officers who weren't assigned to the mass shooting case down at the precinct. As Miles drove to the van Hale estate, police cars in tow, he considered whether it had been a good idea not to phone Brigitte ahead of time. She'd already lost a daughter (and probably a son-in-law), the family doctor and now her husband. Should he have given her a courtesy call? Miles bit his lip. But there was always the possibility that she'd tell Daniel. That would give him enough time to disappear if he desired with his experience as a lawyer and all his high-ranking connections. Miles didn't like the secrecy, but it had to be done.<p>

Arresting Daniel van Hale had been a quick affair yet it hadn't felt that way for Edgeworth. The look on Brigitte's face as he showed her the arrest warrant was one of utter betrayal. Time seemed to stand still as the police officers marched into the house in search of Daniel. Miles had remained with Brigitte in the entrance hall of the estate. He felt an incredible amount of guilt; although he was putting a criminal behind bars, he was destroying the life of the person closest to being a mother to him.

Breaking the silence: "Mrs. van Hale, I'm –"

"Don't, Miles," she interrupted, voice quivering. "Don't apologise." She muttered something in Dutch as the officers returned with her husband in handcuffs. She and Daniel exchanged a few words in Dutch as he walked by. Brigitte could barely look him in the eye. Miles watched as Daniel climbed into the back of the police car. He turned back to Brigitte who was dabbing her eyes with a tissue. He went to speak but she silenced him with a shake of her head. "You have a job to do," is all she said before Gertrude was ushering him out the door.

* * *

><p>Unsurprisingly, Daniel van Hale wasn't talking. He demanded to call his lawyers as soon as they'd led him to the interrogation room. Edgeworth knew it was fruitless trying to conduct an interview with him at this time. But Miles couldn't afford to wait around forever. Daniel had called his "people" and no doubt his "people" had called AG Green. It would only be a matter of time before this whole thing was shut down. He needed to act quickly and there was only one thing he could do.<p>

"Prosecutor Edgeworth, my client has told you all you need to know. What more could you possibly ask him?"

Edgeworth ignored Lars Elroy and leant as far across the table towards Dr. Newman as he could. The man was sweating bullets underneath the intensity of Edgeworth's stare.

"Dr. Newman, I'm going to offer you a deal, but this is a one time offer, do you understand me?" Newman nodded meekly.

"What is this all about, Edgeworth?" Elroy asked again and Miles ignored him once more.

"I could get your sentence reduced by almost one third. No promises, but I'll make sure the Judge is aware of your cooperation at sentencing."

"In exchange for what?" Elroy demanded.

"Name your second accomplice."

Lars Elroy scoffed. "We've been over this before, there is no se –"

"Alright, I'll do it," Newman whispered.

"_Mike_," Elroy warned.

"No, I-I… this is something I need to do."

Elroy was unimpressed. "Go on then," he gestured wildly with his arms, "prostitute yourself to the prosecution!"

"Elroy –!"

"Gentlemen!" Miles slammed his hands on the table. The two stopped bickering. _That got their attention._ "Time is of the essence. If you'd please, Dr. Newman." He motioned for the doctor to continue.

"O-okay… Well, he's not really an accomplice… more like the mastermind of the whole operation."

"Who?" Edgeworth demanded. _Spit it out, man!_

Newman fidgeted with a hangnail. He then cleared his throat, mustering up all his courage. "Daniel van Hale."

"van Hale!" Elroy exclaimed. "Nonsense."

"No, Mr. Elroy, it makes perfect sense." Edgeworth showed him the photos he'd received from Gardiner and explained their significance.

"I see…" Elroy said grimly. He relaxed back in his chair, perhaps seeing the benefit of this deal for the first time.

"So tell me, Dr. Newman, how did you get involved in all this?"

Newman picked at his hangnail again, drawing blood. "Well, uh… van Hale had been having money troubles at the time and he was desperate, you see. One night, he came barging into my lab, claiming he'd figured out my dirty little secret. I had no idea what he was talking about at first – he said he knew I was working with a drug smuggler and he wanted in. I didn't even know Greta was a criminal til then…"

"And then you concocted a plan together, all three of you?"

Newman wiped away the blood that had been gathering on his finger.

"It was more like he made the whole thing up and d-demanded we follow along otherwise he'd fire us."

"Right. So, everything you've told me up until now is the truth?" Miles confirmed."

Newman nodded. "It is."

"Good." Miles took out a form from his folder. "If you could please write out a signed affidavit," he requested, sliding the form over to Newman with a pen.

"Now hold on just one minute, Prosecutor," Elroy said. "I'd like some time to go over this with my client before he signs anything legally binding."

"Mr. Elroy, like I said before, time is of the essence. Your client is welcome to make adjustments after –"

"Ugh, I need my glasses," Newman mumbled.

"… What was that?" Edgeworth asked.

"My glasses," Dr. Newman repeated. "I can't see a damn thing without them. I don't even know where to sign!"

"See, Prosecutor Edgeworth. The law cannot be rushed."

_Glasses… he can't read without his glasses…?_

_ "… Help me find my glasses. I just _can't_ read _without_ them!"_

"This whole interview was a farce, a complete farce."

_… Mina sitting back in her seat, reading with her glasses perched on her nose…_

"Is this really the best the DA has to offer?"

_"… There was no indication that she'd been paying the blackmailer off. The most she'd spent this past month had been $200 on a pair of reading glasses…"_

"Prosecutor Edgeworth, are you even _listening _to me?"

Edgeworth blinked. He was back in the interrogation room, Elroy looking at him in disgust, Newman with concern.

"I'm sorry, we're going to have to continue this interview later." Elroy threw up his arms. "You can sign that when I get back," Miles said, pointing to the affidavit.

"Unbelievable. Who do you –"

Elroy's complaining was cut off as Edgeworth ran from the room, letting the door slam shut by itself. That was it! Newman had unwittingly helped him solve the case! Miles ran to one of the empty police desks in the main lobby of the precinct, almost throwing his files on top. He flicked through the pages quickly, tearing a few in his haste. He grabbed the crime scene photos when he found them.

Mina sitting in the chair book in lap – no glasses.

Side table with wine glass and bottle – no glasses.

Feet and floor around them – no glasses.

_I know I've seen them somewhere…_ Then it came to him. Mina's glasses far from where they should have been.

_That means…_

Edgeworth smirked triumphantly. He knew who murdered Willamijna van Hale.


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N: **This is the last chapter woo! Thank you to everyone who's R&R'd. I hope you've enjoyed reading this as much as I have writing it (/lame). Anway, why are you still reading this? Onwards to the story!

* * *

><p>Edgeworth quickly collected up all his files, still aware that Attorney General Green could turn up at any moment. He balanced them precariously in his arms and spun around, keen to make a hasty exit.<p>

_***SLAM***_

"Oh, Prosecutor Edgeworth, I'm so sorry!"

Instead, he'd run straight into Lisa Benson.

"That's quite alright, Ms. Benson. It's my fault – I wasn't looking where I was going."

They both bent down to pick up the now scattered files from the floor. Miles shoved papers into any folder he could fit them into – there was no time to be organised now. Lisa was being far more systematic.

"You're in a hurry," she observed.

"Yes," he replied. "The Attorney General is bound to show up any time now and I need to avoid her for the sake of my investigation."

"Right." She remembered their disagreement from Friday afternoon.

Once all the files were collected, they both stood.

"I'm sorry to be rude Ms. Benson, but I really must be going," he said, starting to stride away.

"Wait! I didn't get a chance to tell you on Friday because you were in such a hurry…"

He stopped and turned. "Yes?"

"Croak looked into those post-mortem bruises for you." _That's right, I'd completely forgotten about them._ "The bruising is congruent with the body being touched with a great deal of force."

"And what exactly does that mean?"

"Without the body we can't be certain, but it looks like someone grabbed her after she was dead. Carried her, most like."

Edgeworth frowned. "You're saying that she was probably moved after death?"

"Precisely."

Miles mulled this over. _If she was moved, then the logical conclusion is she died some place else, _not_ in the drawing room_. Yes, he could work a theory around that.

"The official report is in there… somewhere," she said, motioning to the bundle of files in Edgeworth's arms.

"Ah. Right, well, I should go." He shifted the files higher up in his arms.

"Oh, yes, sorry to keep you." Lisa shoved her hands into her lab coat pockets.

Edgeworth began to turn around, only to turn back for a second time.

"Actually… I'm heading to the van Hale estate to find some decisive evidence. A forensic should probably be there."

Lisa nodded. "I'll go pick up my gear from the office." She jogged down the hall towards the morgue, mindful of time constraints.

That left Edgeworth to linger anxiously in the hall, just out of sight from the precinct's lobby. He exhaled deeply. With the excitement of finally solving the case, his body was full of adrenalin; it was hard to keep still.

"Mr. Edgeworth, sir!" _Drat. I've been spotted._

He reluctantly turned towards Detective Gumshoe who came jogging from the lobby.

"Attorney General Green's looking for you, sir," he said loudly. Too loudly.

"Shh, Detective!" He dragged the man further down the hall.

"Wha -? What's going on, sir?" he asked more quietly.

"If Green finds me, she'll shut down my whole investigation. I believe she's trying to corrupt the drug manufacture case."

Gumshoe was shocked. "No way! I don't believe it, sir. Not the Attorney General!"

Edgeworth sighed in frustration. "There's no time to explain." Fortunately, Lisa Benson came running back up the hall at that moment. "Come with me, Detective." The trio began striding towards the lobby, only to stop dead when they saw AG Green furiously pacing about the room. Edgeworth cursed under his breath.

"Don't worry, Edgeworth, I know a back way," Lisa whispered. "Follow me."

The three walked quickly down the hall and took the stairs down to morgue level. They passed the morgue and continued to the end of the hall. Lisa pushed open the large double doors and they quickly exited into a parking lot-cum-loading dock.

"This is where the bodies come in," Lisa explained. "This way."

She led them through a narrow alley (Gumshoe had trouble fitting through it) that opened up to the main parking lot.

"Wow, that was like a secret passageway, pal!"

Edgeworth was less than impressed, brushing dirt and cobwebs off his designer suit.

"So, you gonna tell me what this is all about, pa-sir?"

"I've solved Mina van Hale's murder."

Gumshoe gasped. "You have, sir? Well, if anyone could do it, it would be you Mr. Edgeworth," the Detective chuckled.

"Yes, well." Miles checked his watch. "There's something I'd like you to do for me, but you have to do it as quick as possible."

"Anything for you, Mr. Edgeworth!"

"I need you to go to the Courts and get an arrest warrant…" He explained to Gumshoe his theory on Mina van Hale's death and exactly what the Detective needed to tell the Judge.

"Don't you worry, sir. I'll have that warrant for you within the hour!" Gumshoe saluted before racing off to his car.

Edgeworth and Benson strode in the opposite direction to where he'd parked his car. Miles chucked his files in the back seat, glad to be rid of them. He sat behind the wheel with Benson shotgun and started and reversed the car as quickly as he could. Gumshoe drove passed him wildly, beeping the car horn cheerily.

_Let's just hope Gumshoe can convince the Judge, otherwise the killer might walk free. _

* * *

><p>Edgeworth drove faster than usual. <em>Green was at the precinct<em> looking_ for me. She knows about Daniel van Hale's arrest and that I was behind it… I wouldn't put it past her to guess at where I've gone. _He definitely did not want to turn up at the van Hale estate to find an angry Attorney General waiting for him.

"Ms. Benson," he began, "I need you to ring the van Hale estate for me." He handed her his mobile phone.

"Ring them? But –"

"I need to know if the rooms in the guesthouse have been cleaned yet." He cursed at himself internally for forgetting to do that _before_ they left. _Too eager_.

"Alright…" She was still sceptical but rang the number anyway.

_Albert van Hale had mentioned that he and Cassandra hadn't returned to the guesthouse since Mina's death. Something about too many memories… But that had been last week; they may have gone back over the weekend._

"… Yes, thank you very much. Goodbye." Lisa disconnected the call. "I spoke to the head maid," she told him. "She says the guesthouse has been closed off since Cassandra Long and Albert van Hale left."

"So, no cleaning has been done?"

"Correct. Albert's not a big fan of people going through his things apparently and had specifically ask that no one come in and clean it."

_That's odd. Hadn't he complained about the _lack _of cleaning the last time we spoke? I guess he wasn't such a great liar after all…_

* * *

><p>Thankfully, there was no Attorney General Green waiting for him at the van Hale estate, though Edgeworth was still on edge.<p>

"So, where's this guesthouse?" Lisa asked as they jumped out of the car.

"This way." Edgeworth pointed to the copse of trees to the west of the main estate. As they began their hurried walk, the front door of the estate flung open and Brigitte van Hale came storming out.

"Miles Edgeworth!" she called angrily. "What on earth is going on here?"

"Mrs. van Hale." Edgeworth was taken aback. He hadn't even considered the possibility of a confrontation like this.

"First, you come and arrest my husband without warning and now you're, you're – just what _are_ you doing here?"

Bluntly: "Mrs. van Hale, Albert murdered your daughter."

Brigitte paled immediately. A shaking hand lifted to cover her mouth. She muttered something in Dutch as tears spilled from her eyes. She quickly swiped them away.

"I-I see. Do whatever you must."

"Thank you, Mrs. van Hale."

"We'll make sure to bring him to justice," Lisa added.

Brigitte nodded and Miles and Lisa continued down the path towards the guesthouse.

* * *

><p>Katherine was waiting for them and when she saw them approach she unlocked the front door.<p>

"Ms. Katherine," Edgeworth greeted.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Edgeworth and…"

"Lisa."

"_Lisa._ All the rooms are locked so you'll be needing this." She jingled the set of keys in her hand. They all stepped into the guesthouse's foyer. "So, what room will you be needing, sir and ma'am?" she asked politely.

"Albert van Hale's, thank you."

"It's the last room on the left," she said, handing the keys to Lisa who she was closest to.

"Ta." The forensic balanced them on top of her crime scene kit.

"Is there anything else I can do for you?"

"You've done more than enough already, Ms. Katherine. We'll take it from here."

She bowed. "Good luck then," she said and left them to their own devices.

They walked down the hall and Lisa unlocked the door. Sure enough, the room looked just as it had when Miles had interviewed Albert that first time. On the side table sat a bottle of wine, an empty wine glass, the book Albert had been reading and a pair of reading glasses.

"I need you to dust these for prints," he said to Lisa, pointing to the glasses.

"Right away." She knelt down next to the table and opened up her forensic kit. She snapped on a pair of latex gloves and took out a bottle of fingerprint powder. She carefully dusted the temples or arms of the glasses. "Bingo," she said, leaning back. Miles took that as his cue to have a closer look and leant in. A number of prints had appeared on the surface.

"Can you compare them right now?"

Lisa gave him a look that said 'are you kidding me?' "What century have you been living in, Edgeworth?" She took a small electronic device out of her kit and began scanning the prints. "This connects to the police fingerprint database," she explained. "If there are any matches, it'll tell us." The two waited in silence as the device analysed the prints. After a minute of waiting the device pinged, indicating it had found a match. "All the prints belong to our vic, Mina van Hale."

"_All_ of them?"

Lisa nodded. "She was the last person to touch these glasses."

"And you're certain of that?"

She rolled her eyes. "Of course I am."

_That means that Mina must have come back here before she died!_

"So, what does that mea-"

*_**Ring, ring. Ring, ring.***_

"One moment." Edgeworth pulled out his mobile, the caller ID indicating it was Gumshoe. _Good news please, Detective_. He pressed the answer button. "Yes?"

"I got Albert van Hale's arrest warrant, sir!"

Edgeworth sighed in relief. "Good work, Detective." Despite Gumshoe's bumbling nature, he always managed to come through when it really mattered. "Meet us at the van Hale beach house." He rattled off the address and disconnected the call. During his phone call, Lisa had bagged the glasses.

"Anything else you want me to analyse?"

Edgeworth took a quick glance around the room just in case.

"No, I think that will be sufficient Ms. Benson. Let's go."

* * *

><p>Gumshoe was waiting in his beat up car when Edgeworth and Benson arrived at the van Hale beach house.<p>

"They're both in there, sir," the Detective said when they met in the middle of the driveway.

"Let's not waste any time then," Edgeworth replied, marching up to the front door.

Cassandra Long answered the door.

"Oh, Mr. Edgeworth. I wasn't expecting you." She glanced nervously at Gumshoe and Benson, wary of their grim expressions. "… Is everything all right?"

"I'm afraid not, Ms. Long. Could you get Albert for us please?"

Cassandra bit her lip. "… Of course… one moment." She cautiously retreated back into the house.

"Gumshoe: the warrant." Edgeworth held out his hand and after some fumbling from the Detective, he received the paper. _Finally, this case is almost over._

"Mr. Edgeworth!" Albert greeted. "What seems to be the problem?" Albert's laid-back smile was a stark contrast to Cassandra's worried frown.

Edgeworth held out the warrant but didn't unfold it for Albert to read. "We have a warrant for your arrest, Mr. van Hale."

Albert's smile dropped. "Arrest?" He took a step backwards. "W-what for?"

"The murder of your wife, Willamijna van Hale."

Cassandra gasped. "N-no," she sputtered. "That can't be…"

Gumshoe pushed passed Edgeworth to formally arrest van Hale.

"Don't worry, Cassie," Albert said as he was handcuffed. "I didn't do it. They've got nothing on me." Gumshoe steered the man towards his car as he began reciting his rights.

"You've g-got this all wrong," Cassie said with a shaking voice. She was desperately trying to hold back tears.

"I'm sorry, Ms. Long, but the evidence suggests otherwise."

Cassandra sniffed and nodded. She began to close the door. "I have to make a phone call," and she closed the door in Edgeworth's face.

"Well, that was fun," Lisa piped up in her usual monotone.

"Believe me, Ms. Benson, the 'fun' is only just beginning."

* * *

><p>They took Albert through the back entrance of the precinct, passed the morgue and into the very last interrogation room all to avoid a confrontation with AG Green. Lisa looked longingly at the door as Gumshoe led Albert van Hale inside.<p>

"You can watch from the observation room if you'd like," Miles offered. Lisa thanked him with the hint of excitement sparkling in her eyes and went through the door to the left. Edgeworth went in through the right, following Detective Gumshoe and their suspect.

Albert had refused his right to a lawyer claiming he was innocent and thus had nothing to hide. Edgeworth had interviewed a number of criminals in his time and this was a popular technique they used to try and sway the police to their side. Miles never bought it.

Edgeworth sat down as Gumshoe unlocked Albert's handcuffs. He rubbed at his wrists with a frown as Miles went through his legal rights for interviews.

"So, Mr. van Hale," Edgeworth began once the formalities were out of the way, "I believe it's time for a confession."

"Yeah! 'Fess up, pal."

Albert scoffed. "A _confession_? I'm innocent, gentleman. Besides you don't have any proof that I did it."

"We performed a search of your room earlier today and found Mina's glasses there." Edgeworth placed the bagged glasses in the centre of the table. Albert's expression went carefully blank. "The inscription on the inside of the temple reads 'WvH'," he said, pointing to the initials. "Do you deny these are your wife's glasses?"

Albert crossed his arms. "No, they're hers. But so what? That doesn't mean anything."

"It sure does, pal!" Gumshoe piped up. Edgeworth gave him a look before continuing.

"You claim you didn't see Mina after the party and went straight to bed, so how did her glasses end up in your room?"

Albert shrugged. "It was her room too. There's nothing strange about that – I don't how any of this is relevant," he added in frustration.

"It's relevant because she was supposedly reading at the time of her death. Mina told me herself that evening that she couldn't read without her glasses and yet…" Edgeworth picked out the crime scene photos from his folder. "… They're nowhere to be seen."

Albert eyed the photos cursorily. He was unconvinced. "So, she forgot them when she left her room, but it was too late by the time she remembered." Albert frowned. "I thought you were supposed to have _decisive_ evidence."

"I'll make it clear for your benefit, Mr. van Hale," Miles said, gritting his teeth. "Mina had become inebriated that evening and Brigitte decided to take her to bed. You'll remember that at the time Mina had been reading and she left her book and glasses on the table in the drawing room." He tapped the crime scene photos. "They should have been there when she died. Instead, they were all the way in your room."

"That's…" Albert cleared his throat. "Yes, now that you mention it, I _do_ remember that." He rubbed absently at his wrists. "That's hardly decisive though."

"Really?" Miles asked, raising a brow. "Do you have an explanation then for why her glasses were in your room and not in the drawing room as they should have been?"

Albert made a show of carefully considering the question. "Well…" he began, stroking his chin, "the only logical explanation is that I've been framed."

"_Framed_?!" Gumshoe exclaimed.

"Yes. There would've been ample opportunity for the real killer to plant the glasses in my room. I did move out straight after the murder."

Edgeworth frowned. "That's not possible."

"Are you kidding me? Anyone could have broken into my room. It's not like the guesthouse was heavily guarded."

"While _that_ may be true, it's irrelevant." Albert stared at him in disbelief. "When I first spoke with you I saw Mina's glasses – they were in your room mere hours after Mina died. And in addition to this, we've run a fingerprint analysis of the glasses; only Mina's prints are on them meaning she was the last person to touch them."

"Well, uhh…" Albert was scrambling for a counterargument. "The killer obviously wiped their prints. Or, _or_ they were wearing gloves!"

"Our experts disagree." Edgeworth slid over the forensic report Lisa had quickly written up on the car trip back to the precinct. "Mina was definitely the last person to touch her glasses and no glove prints were found."

Albert looked panicked. He glanced around the room as if searching for another excuse. Then suddenly, his demeanour changed. He relaxed back in his chair with the ghost of a smile on his lips.

_Damnit! I almost had him_.

"You're forgetting one thing, Mr. Edgeworth," he pointed out smugly.

"That being…?"

"I have an alibi."

"An… alibi, pal?"

"That's right," he said, smirking. "An alibi. I was in my room at the time of Mina's death. Ask the maid."

_Ah yes. He was in the shower when Katherine brought him a bottle of wine. But… that's not _really_ what happened, is it?_

Now it was Edgeworth's turn to be smug. "I'm sorry, Mr. van Hale, but your alibi isn't as strong as you think it is."

Albert's smirk dropped. "What?"

"You heard me. I think an explanation on everything that happened that night will make things clear…"

_Sunday, 30 June, 1.30am:_

"_The party has just broken up and everyone goes to their respective rooms for the night. Cassandra and Albert travel to the guesthouse together and part ways immediately. Albert asks the maid Katherine to bring him a bottle of wine to help him sleep. She's to put it in his room whilst he's in the shower. _

_ "However, Albert doesn't go in – he leaves the water running and sneaks out through the bedroom window. He does this for two reasons: one, it gives him and alibi – when Katherine returns, she hears the shower running and assumes Albert is in the bathroom, and two, the guesthouse front and back doors are dead bolted shut – it would have been too noisy to exit that way. The trampled shrubs directly underneath his window support this. _

_ "He then heads to the main estate. The copse of trees between it and the guesthouse hide him from sight. But, he doesn't have a key to enter the building. So he must get creative. There's a lattice covered in ivy – easy enough to climb – on that side of the estate that leads up to Mina's room. All he needs to do is knock on the window and Mina lets him in. From there they both head down stairs, stopping at the drawing room where Mina collects her reading glasses and bottle of wine. Now, it _has_ to be this specific bottle of wine because the killer knows a second kind of wine revealed through the autopsy will shift suspicion onto him and away from the theory of suicide. _

_ "They head back to the guesthouse. Remember that Mina had been sent to her childhood room because she was too drunk to walk back at the time. It would be reasonable to suggest that she wanted to be with her husband and not stay with mummy and daddy like a disciplined child. They climb through the window Albert left open so they don't draw attention to their arrival. _

_ "And this is where Mina dies. She is still intoxicated enough that she doesn't notice Albert spike her drink. He has access to Atroquinine easily enough thanks the family doctor, Michael Newman. He makes sure to poison the wine glass and not the whole bottle to make it look more like a suicide. _

_ "Once Mina is dead, he carries her back to the estate and through the kitchen door she'd left unlocked on her way to the guesthouse. This explains the post-mortem bruises on her arms. He also brings the bottle and wine glass back to the drawing room, but he forgets her reading glasses. _

_ "What had been bugging me for so long was the odd positioning of her body, which is explained by the fact that she was placed there after her death_."

Someone tapped on the two-way mirror, interrupting Edgeworth's explanation. All three men in the interrogation room turned to the mirror in confusion. The intercom cracked before Lisa began speaking.

"If I may, Mr. Edgeworth. I hadn't realised until now, but Atroquinine causes extreme convulsions before death. There was no way she could have died in such a "peaceful" position. The _only_ explanation is that she was moved after death."

"Uh, thank you, Ms. Benson," Edgeworth said awkwardly. He turned back to face Albert van Hale. "Right, where was I…?

"… _Albert makes sure to wipe his prints from the wine glass and put hers on, probably by wrapping her hand around the glass and imprinting them that way. He leaves the bottle unwiped because he knows many people have already handled it; only having Mina's prints on the bottle would raise the police's suspicions. That's why no one thought twice about his fingerprints being on the bottle. _

_ "Finally, he places the bag of remaining Atroquinine in Mina's room to further suggest suicide. After that he simply heads back to the guesthouse, climbs through the window again and goes to bed, acting as if nothing has happened."_

Albert chuckled at the end of Edgeworth's explanation. "Well, what can I possibly say in response to that?"

"That Mr. Edgeworth's right and you killed your wife. It's time you admitted it, pal!"

Albert looked at Detective Gumshoe with amusement. "Yeah… no, that's not going to happen. Mr. Edgeworth," he turned back to Miles, "whilst your explanation was _entertaining_… I think you've read one too many Agatha Christie novels," he chuckled. Edgeworth's right eye twitched. "Ignoring all that sensational drivel you just spouted, what's my motive? _Why_ would I want to murder my wife? You can ask anyone: we were happily married."

_But appearances can be deceptive…_ "I haven't forgotten about that. In fact, it's quite simple really." _Disgustingly so._

"Oh really? Please, enlighten me."

"Jealously."

Albert scoffed. "_Jealousy_? Really? Is that the best you can do?"

"It doesn't seem like a compelling enough reason for murder, but that's why you did it. Mina was having an affair with Jamie Gardiner and you wrongly believed that she was also sleeping with Dr. Newman."

"She was? Well, believe me, Mr. Edgeworth, this is the first I've heard of it."

"I don't believe you. Do you know who first told me about these 'affairs'? – No don't answer that – it was Cassandra Long." Albert paled at that. "I've long suspected that the two of you were having an affair. Your behaviour at the party on the night of Mina's death and her funeral made it obvious. Plus, you're _living with each other_ in Mina's beach house."

Albert was growing nervous. "Now, now, Mr. Edgeworth, I think you're just taking a few innocent instances out of context."

Edgeworth leant forward menacingly in his chair. "No. I think Cassandra Long told you about her suspicions and that made you angry. When you realised that Mina wasn't even bothering to hide her transgressions and Jamie Gardiner was actively flaunting them, you felt like a complete fool. And so you wanted out."

Albert swallowed. "M-murder seems a little extreme, don't you think? If what you're saying is true then I would have just filed for divorce."

"Really? Because I think there was one thing stopping you."

"What?"

"A pre-nup. You couldn't divorce her because there'd be no money in it for you. By killing her and making everyone believe it was a suicide, you'd get all her money plus a generous life insurance payout."

Van Hale rubbed a hand through his stubble. "Who says I even care about money? Because I don't."

"When was the last time you worked, Mr. van Hale? According to my records, you've been unemployed for six years. Six whole years of living off your wife's family money. Being broke after all that time doesn't sound so appealing, does it?"

"This is bullshit," Albert spat. Insinuating that he was a gold digger had not been taken well. "You don't have a single piece of decisive evidence. And don't give me that shit about the glasses – for all I know, you could be lying about seeing it the day after Mina's death. Everything you've said so far is circumstantial. I'm not saying anything more until you have a _real_ case against me." Albert crossed his arms indicating the interview was over.

Edgeworth took a calming breath. He knew his evidence was weak, but he'd been hoping that Albert would crack under the pressure. _I know my theory is right… but it doesn't look like I have any way of proving it_. And he had to get a confession today – Attorney General Green was still looking for him and he may not have this case let alone a job if she finds him.

"You know what, pal? Mr. Edgeworth's got plenty o' evidence to send you away for a long time. A _real_ long time."

"Are you sure, Detective? Because Mr. Edgeworth doesn't look too confident to me."

Gumshoe looked over at him. "You've got the evidence… right, sir?"

_Oh no. Anything but those puppy dog eyes._

Luckily, Edgeworth was saved from answering by Lisa's insistent tapping on the two-way mirror. She didn't use the intercom, so Miles took that as his cue to get up and talk to her personally. _Must be important if she won't say it in front of Albert…_

"We're not done yet," he warned Albert and stalked out of the room. Lisa was waiting out in the hall, composed as ever. "Yes, Ms. Benson?"

"The post-mortem bruises," she deadpanned.

"Excuse me?"

"The post-mortem bruises," she repeated more firmly. "I could check them for fingerprints. All I need is an exhumation order so I can examine them in the flesh."

"You can do that? I've never heard of that technique before."

Lisa bit her lip and glanced quickly at the interrogation room, her calm demeanour cracking momentarily. _Suspicious._

"Trust me on this, Edgeworth."

"It's almost been two weeks since her death. Any fingerprints that may have been there would be gone by now…"

Lisa gave him a look he couldn't decipher. "Trust me."

Edgeworth continued to stare at her sceptically. _Something's not quite right here…_

"What are you still doing here? Go!" She gave him a slight push in the direction of the door.

"If you're sure…"

"Yes!" she cried in frustration. "Now go!"

* * *

><p>Edgeworth re-entered the interrogation room, both Gumshoe and Albert staring at him expectantly. He took his time sitting down and getting organised; stalling.<p>

"That was the… head mortician for this case." He bit the inside of his cheek, surprised how easily the white lie had come to him. "She tells me that she's getting an exhumation order for Mina's body."

"What?" Albert exclaimed. "What for?"

"She's going to re-examine the post-mortem bruises and check for fingerprints. If you're truly not the killer, then her analysis will tell us who is."

"You can't do that! How could you possibly find fingerprints in a two week old bruise?"

_How indeed_. "The technology is very advanced these days. You'd be surprised at what forensics can do." _God, I feel like Wright bluffing his way through court…_

But the bluff seemed to have worked. Albert dropped his head in his hands and tried to calm his breathing.

"Confess now and you may not get the death penalty. I'll speak with the Judge personally."

Albert looked up, his eyes wide with terror. "The d-death penalty?"

"Standard sentence for murder in Japifornia."

Albert swallowed and carefully considered his next move.

"A-alright," he said after a long pause. "I'll confess – but promise you'll remove the death penalty!"

* * *

><p>Albert confessed. Edgeworth had been right about everything (except climbing up the ivy – Albert picked the kitchen door lock and went up to Mina's room the conventional way). He left the interrogation room to find a small crowd waiting for him out in the hallway. Joining Lisa Benson was Cassandra Long, Brigitte van Hale and surprisingly, Acting Chief Prosecutor Kate Katic. Both Cassandra and Brigitte were close to tears.<p>

"Chief Katic explained to us what happened," Brigitte said. "Thank you so much, Miles." She pulled him into a tight hug. He threw a bemused look to Katic over Brigitte's head; the Chief simply smiled and nodded.

"I'm just glad that Mina's killer has been brought to justice." Lame, but he wasn't good at this sort of stuff.

"Thank you, really," Brigitte repeated. "Without you I doubt this case would have been solved."

Before he could reply, Cassandra Long burst into tears.

"Yes, I wanted to be with him!" she wailed. "But I never wanted Mina dead. She was my best friend! You're a sick sonuvabitch, Albert van Hale!" she shouted, hoping he'd hear through the wall.

"Come on, dear," Brigitte said calmly. "Let's go somewhere more private." She gently guided the hysteric Cassandra down the hall and out of sight.

_And then there were three…_

"Good work, Edgeworth, not that I expected any less," Katic said. She held out her hand and Miles shook it briefly. "I watched the entire interrogation with Ms. Benson," she explained.

"But how did you –"

"I heard Attorney General Green was throwing a rather unbecoming tantrum for someone in her position. I just had to come and see what all the fuss was about."

Edgeworth glanced anxiously towards the precinct's lobby.

"She's not still out there, is she?" _That's one confrontation I don't want to have._

"Oh goodness no! The FBI came and arrested her ages ago."

"The _FBI_?" Miles and Lisa said in unison.

Katic tried to hide her amusement by biting her lip. "_Yes, the_ _FBI_. I called them when I found out about Daniel van Hale's arrest and Dr. Newman's second confession."

"What does that mean?" Lisa asked.

"Well, it's still early days. I don't know if anything will come of it though I doubt she'll be re-elected next month. Most of her political backers were friends with Daniel van Hale – I'm sure they'll withdraw their support now. She's sure to go up to the Ethics Board, so I don't think we'll be hearing from her anytime soon. Now, if you'll excuse me, there's a lot of cleaning up to do." Katic strode down into the lobby and the chaos that had erupted there.

Edgeworth turned to Lisa.

"Thank you, Ms. Benson," he said, holding out his hand, "if not for you, Albert never would have confessed."

Lisa took his hand. "Yeah, well, don't go mentioning that in too much detail," she mumbled. "I'm sure Croak would have _a lot_ of questions for me…" _I knew it!_

Edgeworth cleared his throat. "In any case, your involvement had a positive impact on the investigation, so thank you again."

Lisa nodded. "Yeah well… Um. I've still got work to do down at the morgue so, uh, I'll see you round. It was nice working with you, Mr. Edgeworth."

"Likewise. Goodbye, Ms. Benson."

Lisa nodded again and disappeared down the hall. Then, Gumshoe came out of the interrogation room dragging Albert along by his handcuffs.

"I'm gonna take him down to central booking now. Is it all clear?"

"It is. Good work, Detective."

Gumshoe brightened at the compliment. "Just doing my job, sir!" He gave a salute and pulled the sullen Albert van Hale with him down the hall.

_Maybe it's time to give him a raise for once…_

Miles checked his watch. What it certainly was time for was a nice, hot cup of tea.

* * *

><p>Edgeworth reclined in his office chair and took a relaxing sip of tea. The last two weeks had been long and arduous and this was the first time he'd been able to relax properly. He was looking forward to a few quiet days of paperwork.<p>

There was a knock at his door and his secretary, Hannah, peeked her head in his office.

"S-sir? I have something for you from Chief Katic."

"Oh, bring it in, Hannah." He sat up and accepted the folder from her. Before he could ask her what it was, she scurried quickly out of the room. _What a strange girl. Now, let's see what Katic wants…_

There was a post-it note with a message from Katic attached the top of the file. It read:

_"Edgeworth, _

_Your punishment for the fight with Chief of Police._

_Katic :)_

The tea in his mouth turned unpleasantly bitter. Reluctantly, he opened the file and groaned, sinking into his chair. Katic had put him in charge of the prosecution for one of the accused mass shooters. And opposing counsel was…

… Phoenix Wright.


End file.
